


Cherry Blossoms at Midnight

by FrivolousFlare



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Cute, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Light Angst, Lukanette, Lukanette September 2019, Romance, Romantic Comedy, This was meant to be cute and happy, Tumblr Prompt, mentions of domestic abuse, what happened!?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2020-10-05 22:41:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 84,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20496509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrivolousFlare/pseuds/FrivolousFlare
Summary: After the events of Silencer, Luka thinks there's no chance for him and Marinette. But a fateful meeting presents a fresh start, a second verse.A selection of scenes inspired by the Lukanette September 2019 prompts. The chapters all come together to create one cohesive story, not a series of one-shots, shaped by the prompts I stumbled across on Tumblr.





	1. Day One: First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a little late to the party on this one, so the time I'd usually dedicate to editing and redrafting is, well, non-existent. So apologies for grammar mistakes and typos; these will have been written quickly and under pressure. There'll probably be a weird dissonance between the chapters with regards to style because...well, it happens sometimes. To be honest I'm more focused on keeping the themes steady.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First meeting, in which Marinette and Luka meet for the first time, and then again.

**Day One: First Meeting**

Luka heard her before he saw her. Light footsteps adding a soft, staccato beat to the melody of his heartsong playing quietly in his mind. Her started yelp added to the composition, her jumbled words, her awkward giggle.

It felt like he knew her name before she stuttered it out. “Ma-ma-marinette!” Felt like they had met before. He recognised her of course from Juleka’s school photos; her face and her sunny smile. But more than that, he recognised her essence, her heartsong. He’d heard it in the stories from Juleka about school, about how “Marinette ran for Class President. I hope she wins; better than Chloe again,” or the time “Marinette destroyed Max at Ultra Mega Strike today.”

He could still clearly remember the day she practically skipped into his room to proudly show the photos taken on picture day, the photos of her, her face, no birds or hands or freak weather phenomenons obscuring her this time, and it was thanks to Marinette’s persistence. And within a few months more photos, showing off a large floppy hat. “Marinette made it,” she’d said. “She asked us to model them.” But he could tell it meant more to her than that, that every photo of her was a reminder that the curse was broken, and so was its hold it had over her self-esteem.

If it was Marinette that had helped break that hold, and build that esteem anew, he was indebted to her.

But now, as he chuckled at her stammers, she felt familiar in other ways, like an old friend. Not just the frozen face from a photograph, but a face perhaps he’d glimpsed in the street, outside Juleka’s school, through a window.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I tend to make more sense with this.”

He liked the way her face changed from embarrassment to wonder, so he patted the space on the bed, inviting her to sit. She sat unsurely; there was something about her body language, the gleam in her eyes, reminiscent of a broken soul, a mirror split with spidered cracks.

“That’s strange,” he said, because the girl from Juleka’s stories sounded too strong to be broken. “It seems you have something like this in your heart.”

He played. The melancholy tune followed the mirror’s cracks, split into chords, dissonance weaved with a minor key. He knew from experience that to mend the cracks, you have to confront them, feel each fissure until you know it as well as the tree of veins on the back of your hands.

She looked at him when he finished. “How do you do that?” she asked.

“Music is often simpler than words,” he replied. Simpler still was the smile on her lips, echoed on his own, and the softness in her eyes, and the way her body eased out of heartbreak and into comfort like a familiar embrace. She slipped across the room to his guitar pick collection: the only neat display in the houseboat, the calm eye of the storm of their chaos.

“You like Jagged Stone’s music?” she enquired, choosing a pick off the display and scrutinising it. His heart gave a little stutter, and again when he came to stand next to her and she fumbled shyly.

“He’s my favourite singer,” he said. “You can have it if you like. I’ve got plenty.”

It was a lie. The pack of five had dwindled to only two, having lost the other three at school or in the Seine. The last two were more precious; and now the final one was even more so.

“Oh, thanks.”

“I think I better go and ‘join the groove’ you said.”

“Did I really say that?” she moaned.

He had to bite down another chuckle for fear of embarrassing her further. “You’re a funny girl, Marinette,” he said, and as he left the room he couldn’t help but smile again.

* * *

A year had passed, and Luka had seen first-hand the strong, selfless, determined girl Juleka had described. He’d also seen her heart shatter, and the swing of the hammer that cracked the mirror of her soul.

The name of the hammer was Adrien, swung by his own ignorance and obliviousness. He was a nice enough guy, conventionally handsome. Sunshine hair and green eyes; any girl would want him. Marinette wanted him. And when he noticed her longing glances at the ice-rink, it only made sense to push her towards him. After all, he could no more force her to love him than stop the sun casting its light upon the moon.

Things looked up after the incident with Bob Roth and Silencer. Despite the shame at falling to his anger; the disgust and violation at being used by Hawkmoth to hurt people, he had found the courage to reveal the words in his heart.

“You’re the most extraordinary girl, Marinette. As clear as a music note, as sincere as a melody. You’re the music that’s been playing in my head since the day we met.”

And after that, nothing. Summer had passed, and the lazy days spent melting on the top deck beneath the scorching sun were coming to a close. With school starting up again, most of Kitty Section’s members were forced to meet less frequently to keep up with the demand of homework and study as they entered their final year of collège.

Luka didn’t have many people he considered close friends. He had always preferred his own company, or perhaps he’d been forced to. Never invited people around because he was an introvert. Or an introvert because he never wanted to invite people around.

He had friends, of course. A handful of students at his music lycée he was friendly with and with whom he would go out to cafés and underground concerts. And, of course, the members of Kitty Section. Despite being two years below him, they had become like a family, and now that they were barely around he found himself feeling lonely.

In the back of his mind, where a gentle tune in a major key played on loop, he knew it was because Marinette was barely around either. After the Bob Roth incident, and their subsequent appearance on TV, which earned a spike in their social media outlet, they had nothing planned. No gigs, just the odd rehearsal. And with nothing to design for them, no support needed from the wings, she had no reason to be there.

The tune hit a sour note. He certainly wasn’t reason enough for her to visit. She’d never responded to his confession. And though he wanted to keep up the pretence of not minding—she was free to respond or not respond after all, to love him or not love him—it still hurt, and his bruised heart assumed the worst.

Lycée had finished for the day, and Luka headed straight to his favourite music shop. It was small and shabby, and tucked out of the way between a vintage café and a crafts shop. But it played indie tunes, and the walls were plastered with peeling record labels, and the man who seemed to run it single-handed—Louis—was chill and dispensed good advice about which strings to buy and how to breathe new life into an old amp.

Luka needed some new picks, so after glancing longingly at the limited display of guitars, he turned his attention to the perspex boxes and plastic bags of brightly coloured plectrums. Eventually, he settled a handful of black ones with the white silhouette of a tree branch and petals blowing in a frozen wind.

He bought them because they were a new pattern, and because he wanted to experiment with a different thickness. He bought them because they were pretty, and because the pattern reminded him of an autumn breeze stripping the trees. He bought them because he liked them. No other reason.

So when Luka walked outside, waving to Louis over his shoulder, he was surprised to see nearly the same pattern crawling across someone’s shirt.

But not that surprised. Because wasn’t that how the theory of attraction worked? You think about something and want something so much that the universe brings it to you? And here she was, looking just as surprised to see him, holding her open purse next to her face as if looking for something inside. But when she saw him, she dropped it like a hot coal and pasted a too-wide grin across her face.

“Oh, uh, hi!” Marinette garbled, flustered as usual.

Maybe it was because they hadn’t seen each other for some time. Maybe it was because he hadn’t seen her outside of Kitty Section rehearsals. Maybe it was because after his rejection—if it wasn’t acceptance, what was it?—he had built a wall in his mind to lock thoughts of her out. If that was the case—his hand found its way into his pocket, grazing fingertips across the picks’ edges—it hadn’t worked well. Whatever the reason, it felt like meeting for the first time.

“Hello,” he returned. “What are you doing down here?” As soon as he asked he realised it was a silly question, for right next to them was a craft shop, and in the window he now saw a sign announcing a sale on end-of-line fabric stock. But, to his surprise, she adopted a horrified look and looked away.

“Ohh, nothing much,” she said. “Just, you know, walking. Around. Walking around to, uhh, my house. Yeah.”

“Do you want to walk together?” he offered. He hadn’t been to her house, but he knew it wasn’t nearby.

“I—uh, it’s okay! I don’t want to be a bother!” she replied, twiddling her thumbs. “You’re probably busy anyway, so…”

He smiled. “You’re never a bother,” he said earnestly as they began heading up through the alley towards the main street. “And I’m finished here anyway. I just came in to get some new picks.” He fished one out of his pocket and presented it to her. “I’m always running out. Hazard of living on a boat.”

“It’s the same with my needles,” she said, plucking the pick out of his hand and studying it. “But I can’t blame the Seine whenever they go missing… This is so pretty! I didn’t think it was your style though.”

“Styles change.” He shrugged. “Or maybe they just grow.”

She turned the pick over in her hand then looked down. “Hey,” she exclaimed suddenly and held the pick against her chest. “We match!”

The tune in Luka’s head changed. Brightened. It was pink, like cherry blossoms, and red like a sunset. He hoped the new colours hadn’t found their way to his cheeks. “You should keep it,” he said. “I bought plenty. Maybe you can use it in one of your designs.”

At first he thought she was going to refuse, but then she returned his smile and slid it into her pocket. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll definitely make something with it. And when I do you’ll be the first to see it!”

“I look forward to it. Whatever you come up with, I know it’ll be as extraordinary as you are.”

She flushed then, and Luka worried he’d said too much. Like he had before. Would it be another few months before she spoke to him again? But she was smiling, and when they reached her house she hugged him quickly and thanked him again before hurrying inside.

An autumnal chill had settled in the air, and began prickling the bare skin of his forearms as he walked home. But the grin felt hot on his face, and the rich tune of sunshine and cherry blossoms warmed his mind. Idly, pressed his left fingertips into the heel of his palm as though pressing them into a fret-board, and hummed under his breath.

But the wind picked up, and as he passed beneath a billboard of Adrien Agreste’s face, the breeze knocked the cherry blossoms away.

The tune of a bare branch was cold.


	2. Day Two: First Concert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First concert, in which Luka helps Marinette with her homework.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: They probably don’t use any Norton Anthologies in France. I couldn’t be bothered to think of a different name and just ‘anthology’ hurt my soul. Fight me.
> 
> This has a rather different writing style to the first chapter, so be warned. Only had time for a quick read-through before uploading because I want to get on the right track as quickly as possible, so apologies for any typos.

**Day Two: First Concert**

“Thank you so much, Luka,” Marinette enthused, sitting on his bed as he rooted around in a large box. “I’m so sorry about this…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied. He was wearing his usual t-shirt, but had forgone the hoodie and jacket due to the sudden warm spell that had invaded the Parisian autumn. “These things happen… The amount of times I’ve dropped my homework in the Seine isn’t worth thinking about.”

“You must have gotten in so much trouble!”

“Some.” He shrugged, standing up with a book in his arms. “Would have been in worse if I hadn’t though. I only ever ‘dropped’ homework I hadn’t done.”

Marinette gave an unattractive snorted and covered her face. “Luka!”

“It was only chemistry,” he laughed. “Nothing important. Here.” He presented her the book: The Norton Anthology of English Poetry. “I’d offer to help but literature was never my strong point.”

“Oh no, this is perfect, thank you!” Reverently, as if in possession of a great treasure, Marinette pulled the book onto her lap. It was a thick paperback with crisp, white pages and straight corners. She flipped to the contents page and ran her finger down the list of poets. Wordsworth, Keats, Shelley, Byron, Barret-Browning. “Now I just have to write that thousand word essay…”

“When’s it due?”

Marinette moaned and leaned forward, dipping her face into the book. The scent of fresh paper filled her nose. “Tomorrow…”

“Explains why you’re so panicked,” he said.

“I was running out of options,” she sighed. “Alya wasn’t picking up the phone and neither Mylène or Alix were this class, and Rose and Juleka were out...I’m just glad you had a copy I could use. The library’s closed and I couldn’t find it at the bookshop…” She sighed again, shutting the book and hugging it. “I should get out of your way. I’m sorry I disturbed your practice…”

“It’s fine, I wasn’t doing anything important,” he replied, sitting down on the bed between her and his guitar. “You can stay if you like. That is, if you want to bounce ideas off of someone. The only way I got through my literature essays was by talking at Juleka for an hour.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t just drop them in the Seine,” she said slyly, to which Luka responded by laughing. “Would—would you mind if I stayed? Just until I finish this essay. Papa’s trying to fix one of the ovens and it’s too loud to concentrate, even in my room. I’d go back outside but I don’t want to drop your copy in the Seine too—”

“Marinette,” he interrupted. “You can stay. I’ll try to refrain from playing my music too loud… Here, sit at the desk.”

He led her to the small desk across the room, where he quickly swept his notebooks and scrap papers into a draw. Then, after asking if she wanted a drink or a snack—“The only way I ever get homework done is if I have a bowl of caramels,” he admitted—he returned to his bed with his guitar cradled in his lap like a newborn.

For an hour, or maybe more, Marinette typed away on her laptop. Fortunately, she’d already managed to write a quarter of her essay as well as the essay plan before her clumsiness had sent her book into the depths of the river, so all she had to do now was to expand on the last 75% of her essay plan. Literature had never been her favourite subject, and the added element of the poems being translated from English only worsened it. The translations were never seamless, and the French verse was therefore riddled with strange similes and descriptions that didn’t quite make sense.

Behind her, Luka was silently playing his guitar. Silently, because it was his electric and it wasn’t plugged in. He wasn’t strumming; instead he pressed his fingers against the strings, the echoes of dull notes barely whispering in her ears. And, as she finally reached the conclusion of her essay—although by now she had forgotten what argument she was meant to be concluding, if any—she turned to watch him.

His eyes were shut, but his lips were pulled into a thoughtful frown, and every now and again they parted to ghost around inaudible words. Marinette bit her lip, tried not to think about how handsome he was. Not the way Adrien was handsome, not ‘the front of a magazine’, glittering down the catwalk like a captive star. Luka was handsome in a softer, more intimate way. Each individual feature was handsome, but what brought them together, made him beautiful, was the way his smile betrayed his punk-rock look for the gentle kindness beneath.

Marinette blinked hard and shook her head; she was beginning to sound like a paperback romance.

But Luka had apparently sensed her staring and looked up, head tilted to one side.

“Sorry,” he said. “Am I disturbing you?”

“No, no!” She shook her head again quickly. “I don’t mind. I was just curious. What are you playing?”

He shifted his gaze to one side and rubbed the back of his neck. “You won’t know it.”

“I might,” she said.

“You wouldn’t. It’s, uh, something I wrote…”

“Can I hear it? I’m sure it’s amazing!”

Luka chuckled. “Maybe if you finish that essay.”

“But it’s hurting my brain!” she groaned. “Maybe I should just do what you do and throw it in the Seine.”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?” he said, sounding annoyed but by the amusement in his eyes she knew it was in jest.

Marinette smirked and shook her head. “Nope.”

* * *

It took another hour, but eventually Marinette announced she was finished and closed the lid of her laptop with a satisfying click. “Finally!”

“Well done.” Luka grinned.

“Thanks.” She grinned back and shut the poetry book. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“That’s not true. You’re a creative girl; you would have figured something out,” he said. “Now, I believe I promised you a song.”

Excited, Marinette hurriedly slid her laptop into her bag and left the book to one side then practically leapt across the room to join him sitting on the bed. Luka laughed at her enthusiasm as he plugged a thick cable into his guitar.

“It still needs some work,” he admitted, playing a note to test the volume. A rick, velvety note reverberated through the air. “I’m not very good at finishing things…”

“But Kitty Section has loads of finished songs,” Marinette pointed out.

“Rose writes most of them. I just do the guitar lines,” he replied. “Whenever I try to write a song myself...well, I just never finish them.”

“You’ve written more than one?”

“Started,” Luka corrected. He began playing, delicately plucking a minor chord, but Marinette nudged his shoulder.

“No, go up there,” she said. “It’ll be like my own private concert. No, wait!”

Luka paused, half-standing, and looked at her inquisitively. Marinette tugged the sleeves of his t-shirt up, rolling them onto his shoulders to expose the full shape of his biceps, then teased his fringe slightly with her fingers. His hair was sleek and soft, like fine quality silk. The things she could have done if she only had a tub of hair gel handy. Perhaps the next time Kitty Section performed, she could do their hair too.

“There,” she announced, grinning. “Now you look like a real rockstar.” Marinette slid back to sit against the wall and cleared her throat. Then, in a lowered voice, she announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, get ready for the main event! Striking out on his own, Kitty Section’s Luka Couffaine!” She clapped and cheered, and nudged Luka again to get him moving. He laughed but nonetheless stood in front of her and took a mock-bow.

“This first one is called Untitled, because I haven’t thought of a title yet,” he said, sitting down on the abandoned desk chair. He started again: soft chord, carefully plucked, a few counts, then with dramatic sweeps of his wrist he let loose a barrage of sound. Soon his voice joined, a little rusty at first, but eventually it shifted into melted chocolate and honey.

_“So baby, give me your hand and I’ll give you the world,_   
_ Give me a chance and I’ll give you my all._   
_ Give me your love, give me your sign,_   
_ But keep your heart, babe, and let me keep mine.”_

* * *

Three songs later, Marinette’s phone buzzed.

“Is that the time?” she yelped, leaping to her feet. “I was meant to be home an hour ago!” She jabbed the answer button and brought her phone to her ear, simultaneously trying to tug on the shoes she had kicked off earlier. “Hello, maman. Yes, I know, I’m sorry. I’m coming home now…” She quickly said goodbye, slipped her phone back into pocket, and groaned. “I have to go.”

Luka, winding up the cable from his amp, grimaced. “Sorry,” he said. “I should’ve asked what time you had to be home...would you like me to walk you?”

“Uhh…” Marinette cast a look at her purse then shook her head. There was a faster way home. “No, it’s okay. It’s not that late.”

“If you’re sure…”

“I am.” Smiling awkwardly, she grabbed her laptop bag and stopped in front of Luka. “Thank you for today.”

“Thank you,” he returned. “It’s been a while since I’ve played for someone. Maybe I should finish those songs…”

“You should! They were amazing,” she enthused. “Anyway, I should get going... Bye, Luka! I’ll see you!”

“Yeah, I’ll see you,” he said, waving. She ran out of the room, bag bouncing against her leg, and whizzed past Captain Anarka who chuckled and yelled something Marinette couldn’t hear. She hurried down the gangplank, and along the Seine until she was out of view of the Liberty.

“Wow, he’s really talented, Marinette,” Tikki said, poking her head out of the purse.

“His voice is amazing,” Marinette sighed, smile sliding across her lips. “I can’t believe I’ve never heard him sing before.”

Fortunately, Sunday evening saw shops closed and the streets empty. As the sun sank, sending amber light sparkling across the water’s surface like broken glass, Marinette ducked into an alley and murmured “Spots On.”

Ladybug swung into the sun-stained sky, wind whipping past her face, through her hair, nearly bringing tears to her eyes. As she flew, heart somewhere between her chest and her throat, she hummed to herself, and humming became breathy words snatched by the wind as soon as they left her lips.

_“She’s cool as a river, bright as a fire._   
_ Stars in her soul, and the sun in her smile._   
_ Spring’s in her heart, and the moon’s in her eyes,_   
_ Cherry blossoms sweep in the breath of her sighs…”_


	3. Day Three: First Fashion Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First fashion show, in which Luka cheers Marinette up.

**Day three: First Fashion Show**

Autumn was coming to a close, and exams were approaching. With homework piling higher and higher, and akumas born out of the stress and panic, Marinette was tireder than ever. Luka could tell by her texts that the pressure was taking its toll on her.

**L: Are you even getting any sleep?**

**M: no**

**L: None? :(**

**M: some  
** **M: 3 hours **

**L: That’s not enough. What are you doing now?**

**M: homewooooork  
** **M: its so boring i dont get physics**

**L: You could always try chucking it in the Seine**

**M: lol  
** **M: i might chuck myself in**

**L: No jumping in the Seine. Otherwise I’ll have to jump in after you and I don’t fancy that in this weather ;P **

**M: na  
** **M: just leave me to drown  
** **M: itll bring up the class avg score**

**L: You’re making me worry. Do you want to come over? You can have another private concert :)**

**M: noooo  
** **M: its too cold  
** **M: you can come to me**

That’s why, a mere twenty minutes later, he was on the doorstep of the Dupain-Cheng bakery with his acoustic guitar strapped across his back. Marinette’s mother waved as he entered.

“What can I get you?” she asked, clicking the bakery tongs behind the till. 

“Actually, I’m here to see Marinette,” he replied. “To stop her from throwing herself in the Seine…”

Mde. Cheng chuckled and gestured the door behind the counter. “You’d best come this way. She’s in her room, on the top floor. I’m glad she’s got a friend over; she’s been working far too hard lately…”

“Thank you, _ madame _.”

“Sabine, dear.”

Luka smiled as he passed her then hurried through the door into the kitchen, where Marinette’s mountain of a father was kneading dough. After explaining that he was visiting Marinette, M. Dupain face scrunched into suspicion then into a sort of secretive grin. “I won’t keep you, son,” he said. “Go on up!”

Marinette was exactly where he expected her to be: slumped at her desk over an open textbook. Luka knocked on the door as he climbed into her room, prompting her to sit up in alarm and whirl around. 

“Gah! I’m working, I just—oh, Luka! I, wait, you’re here? Wah!” With another strangled cry, she fell out of the chair, landing face-down on the floor. 

Luka rushed over to offer her a hand up and tried not to laugh. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah.” She accepted his hand and stood, rubbing her nose. “I just wasn’t expecting to see you, well, here.”

“I said I’d come, didn’t I?”

“I didn’t realise you were being serious!”

“I didn’t realise you weren’t.”

Marinette giggled. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. I feel like it’s been ages since I’ve seen you…” She guided him towards the chaise lounge and gestured him to sit, her smile pushing into the dark bags beneath her eyes.

“You only really come to mine for Kitty Section stuff,” he said. “And we’ve not had much time for rehearsing since school started up again.”

“We’ve not had much time for anything,” Marinette sighed. “Just work…”

“Which you are banned from doing. You’re working too hard.”

“But—”

“No. When’s the last time you took a moment to yourself? Did some designing or meditating or just listened to music?”

He knew her answer despite the silence by the way she bit her bottom lip and looked away. 

“Come on,” he continued. “Take an afternoon to yourself. What do _ you _ want to do?”

“Sleep,” came the immediate response as she slumped onto the chaise lounge. 

“You can if you want.”

“No, you came all this way…”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind. Here—” He swung his guitar case off his back and began unzipping it—“I’ll play you something to help you sleep.”

“No,” she whined. “Luka, that would be so rude of me.”

Luka looked down at his guitar, the headstock peeping out of the bag, then at Marinette’s exhausted face. Then, he got an idea and grinned. “I’d love to see your designs.”

“Really?” she asked bluntly. “I didn’t think you were into that sort of stuff.”

He nearly replied ‘_I__’m into you’ _ but stopped himself in time. “I like art,” he said. “And it’s the same thing, isn’t it? Something you’ve created, poured part of yourself into. I gave you a concert, so you can give me a fashion show.”

“If you’re sure.” Still a hint of reluctance in her voice, but nonetheless she stood up and wandered over to her wardrobe. 

She pulled out boxes of hats, gloves, necklaces and scarves among other things, and held them up for him to see. Every piece looked well made, with clean lines and shapes reminiscent of classic Parisian fashion. But each item had its own style, its own look, its own heartbeat. As though Marinette sewn in little veins and arteries, hooked them with hers, fed them her own blood until they took on lives of their own. 

He understood, because it was the same with his music. It was the same when creating anything. Creating was more than making, it was shaving off pieces of your soul, bleeding into the vessel of your art. It put him in mind of the pictures from his old biology textbook of a baby in the womb, the umbilical cord feeding it a constant supply of nourishing blood. But Luka didn’t like thinking of it that way, because what did that make his unfinished pieces, his abandoned songs? And what did that make him?

“I made this one for Juleka,” Marinette said, sucking him from his thoughts. She held up a familiar floppy, white hat. “I was going to make it black, but I thought, you know, she always wears black so let’s try something different.”

Luke picked it back up when she put it down and jammed it on his own head. Then he gave a catwalk-worthy pout and turned his head to one side. “What do you think? Who pulled it off better?”

Marinette giggled and knocked it off his head again. “Juleka, definitely. Not your colours… This one is though!”

Within ten minutes, they were swaggering around her room, decked out with the most mismatched accessories they could find whilst a low, beat-heavy piece of music played through Luka’s phone. As Marinette wrapped a sage-green scarf around his neck, which clashed horribly with the neon orange cap perched on his head, Luka spotted another box not yet opened. 

“What’s in this one?” he asked. 

To his surprise, Marinette flushed and dropped her hand from his neck. The scarf fell limp around his shoulders. “Oh, em, just a dress I made…”

“Can I see it?”

“Umm…” She draped a hand protectively over the box, as if to stop him opening it. “I, well guess...” Her fingers tapped the edge of the box to a quick, nervous beat which mirrored her heart. Or so he imagined by the way her lips pursed and her eyes flickered. However, before he could take back his suggestion, she nodded. “Okay,” she agreed. “But don’t look while I get changed.”

Luka laughed because she didn’t have to ask, and went to lie face-down on the chaise lounge with a pillow over his head, prompting a giggle from Marinette. He heard her footsteps next to him. 

“You’re definitely not peeking?”

“No.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three.”

A pause. “Are you sure you’re not looking?”

“No,” he replied. Then, muffled by the sofa and his own smirk, “I’m just psychic.”

“Luka!” she laughed, but her footsteps were leading away now, and soon he heard the rustling of fabric and the soft flump of clothes on the floor. Even though he was already face-down with a pillow on his head, he still closed his eyes, lashes scraping against the chaise lounge, and recited the lyrics Jagged Stone’s latest hit to stop his thoughts wandering.

“Okay,” Marinette called. Her voice quivered slightly. “It’s not the full look. I was thinking I could have my hair up, maybe a necklace, but…” 

Luka pushed himself up and looked at her. She stood awkwardly a few feet away, hands fidgeting. The dress was simple in design; sleeveless with wide straps on her shoulders; snug around her waist; flared skirt ending just shy of her knees. The colour was caught somewhere between pink and silver. Cherry blossoms at midnight.

“It suits you, Marinette,” he said. “It’s a beautiful dress.”

Her face went pink around her smile. “Thanks.”

“Is it for a special occasion?” 

“Umm, well…” The pink deepened; the smile faded. “I was going to wear it for the Christmas dance. It’s our last one at collѐge. But…”

“But?”

“I don’t know if I’m going to go.”

“Why not?”

“I—it’s stupid.”

“If it’s upsetting you then it’s not stupid,” he told her. “Your feelings are valid, you know. Come on—” Luka patted the space next to him. “Talk to me.”

Marinette hesitated, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt, then sighed and came to sit next to him. Her skirt pooled next to her like water. “Well, so, Alya’s going with Nino. And Mylѐne’s gong with Ivan, and Rose and Juleka are inseparable. And Alix isn’t going because she’ll be away skiing. Then Chloé kept saying how of course I’ll be going on my own. And Lila—” Her face soured— “is talking about how she keeps getting asked by lycée boys and now everyone thinks I’m jealous that no one’s going to ask me, and it just...ugh.”

“School dances are the worst,” Luka said. “Too many people; dancing; terrible music... I only ever went to mine for an hour or so to show my face then left.”

“I guess I could do that,” she mumbled. “It would be nice to see everyone dressed up…”

“And this dress definitely deserves an outing. I can’t believe you made it yourself. You’re incredibly talented.”

She smiled, but it was strained. “Thanks, Luka.”

“I also can’t believe no one will ask you,” he added. “Any guy would be lucky to go with you.” One boy in particular came to mind, and Luka knew by the forlornness in her eyes that she had the same thought, the same boy. They both knew it was hopeless. 

“None of the guys I know,” she said. “Nino’s with Alya, Ivan’s with Mylѐne. Nathaniel’s said he’s not going. Max, well, is Max. Kim’s bringing Ondine. And, well...he won’t ask me. He doesn’t even notice me.”

She didn’t need to say it. He knew who she meant.

“Kim’s bringing Ondine, huh?” he asked instead. “Does she go to your school?”

“No, she goes somewhere else. But we’re allowed dates from outside of school as long as we let our teacher know.”

Swallowing the bundle of nerves in his throat, Luka swivelled slightly to face her. “Well then, you could take me.”

“I—huh?” 

“Take me,” he repeated. “Then you can tell Lila and Chloé that a lycée boy asked you too.”

“You want to go with me?”

“If you’ll have me,” he replied. Marinette suddenly launched herself at him, practically in his lap as she squeezed him in the tightest embrace of his life. 

“Thank you!” she squealed. “I’d love you to go with me! But—” she pulled away, frowning again. “But you said you didn’t like school dances.”

“I’m sure I can survive one. I’ll have to get a nice shirt though…”

He thought he could see the beginnings of tears in her eyes, silver and trembling, but she blinked them away and replaced them with determination, glinting like steel. 

“Leave that to me.”


	4. Day Four: First Blush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First blush, in which Luka picks Marinette up for the dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's pretty short, and tomorrow's will be too. Apologies for that. But day six should be longer to make up for it. 
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and comments thus far. I'm usually on FFN instead of AO3 so I'm don't fully understand the etiquette and appropriate tags, but I'm sure I'll work it out eventually.

**Day Four: First Blush**

This wasn’t the first time he’d felt nervous. Before concerts, during exams, results day. Parent-teacher conferences walking down the school hallways with just his mother, her boots thump-thump-thumping on the floor, one of his hands in hers, the other in his pocket.

But a different sort of nervousness spasmed in his stomach. This wasn’t the first time he’d been out with a girl, not the first time going to a dance with a girl. But this was the first time going with Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and that made him nervous.

Luka prided himself on being a chill, laid-back person. He meditated everyday to keep his mind slipping into dark waters. He built himself a little cocoon which he carried with him wherever he went to fend off the looks and remarks before they could knot themselves like little anxious monsters scurrying under his skin. He knew who he was, and what he was worth. He knew where his passions lay, every beat and note and tune of his heart and soul. He could play their music without a guitar, just close his eyes and see the melody play out in the dark like leaves fluttering in a spider’s web.

But somehow, standing now on the Dupain-Chengs’ doorstep, one fist raised to knock on the door, he noticed the way his knuckles shook. He felt naked, like his cocoon had melted away into the gutter with the afternoon’s rain. This wasn’t a date, he reminded himself. Not really. Just two friends going to a dance so she could show off her hand-made dress; so she could hold her head high to the girls that had put her down; so she could feel a little less lonely, a little less undesired.

He rapped his knuckles smartly against the glass panels and the door opened mere seconds later.

Sabine smiled widely and ushered him inside. “We were wondering when you’d be getting here. Marinette’s just finishing getting ready. There’s your shirt, dear. You can change in the bathroom upstairs while I go check on Marinette...” She pointed to another door with a clothes hanger hooked on top, holding a shirt.

It was dark blue, nearly black, with silvery-pink thread embroidered over the right breast, spilling onto the shoulder. A tangle of leaves and branches. Blossoms. He smiled and unhooked the shirt then followed Sabine’s directions to the bathroom to change.

The shirt fitted perfectly. He worried that his black jeans—his smartest pair, the one without rips—wouldn’t match. Although he didn’t care much for blending in with ideals of formality for a school dance, he did care about embarrassing her. However, when he emerged, to an audience of Marinette’s father, he realised he had nothing to worry about.

“Very smart!” M. Dupain exclaimed, dragging Luka into the centre of the room before circling him like a picky vulture. “We were worried she wouldn’t finish it in time, but of course she managed it. Our Marinette always does. She’s very talented, don’t you think?”

Yes, he did think so, but all he could do was nod. She was incredibly talented, especially if she’d managed to put together the shirt, plus embroider it, as well as the homework and studying school was piling on her. He hoped she hadn’t caused herself any extra, unnecessary stress over it.

“Oh, look at you!” Sabine cooed, entering the room, one hand behind her back. “Marinette was so excited yesterday when she finished it; it looks even better on you!”

“Our Marinette sure has good taste in men,” M. Dupain chuckled. “Always brings home the handsome ones. First that Adrien boy, then Chat Noir…” He trailed off awkwardly, something between regret and anger flashing briefly across his face. “Then you! Luka, was it?”

“Uh, yes, that’s me, sir.”

“Sir?” He laughed; it boomed like thunder. “You make me sound like an old man! Please, call me Tom. Maybe one day you’ll be calling me papa.”

Desperately forcing down the blush threatening to bloom across his cheeks, Luka chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. His other hand found its way into his pocket, seeking out something to fidget with, something to hold. His keys; he pressed his hot thumb against the metal.

Sabine chastised her husband with a stern look, and Luka could practically see the flash of warning, red as a rain-soaked sunset. She turned back to him with a smile which warmed her grey eyes. “Marinette should be down in just a moment. Then…” Sabine revealed a camera behind her back and grinned devilishly. “This is her last Christmas dance at collège, and I want some nice photos to remember it! And of course Gina will want to see a picture…”

“Maman!” someone yelped from the open doorway. “You said you weren’t going to take photos!”

“I say a lot of things,” Sabine replied. “Now come over here! Oh, you two look so good together!”

“Look at my daughter! Beautiful as a fairy tale!” Tom gushed.

Indeed she was. The dress had changed since Luka had last seen it. Now across the left side of her waist, there crept tangle of branches and leaves in dark blue thread, like a silhouette in front of a full moon. Her hair was tied up in a bun, and her facial features accentuated by the light makeup on her lips and eyes. A navy jacket was slung over her arm.

Searing warmth tried to crawl up Luka’s neck, but he pressed his fingers harder against the cold keys in his pocket until the blush died. “Marinette,” he said, not liking how his voice scraped dryly up his throat. “You look great.”

“Thanks,” she said, heels clicking as she walked towards him. “How does the shirt fit? Is it okay?”

“It’s brilliant. Best shirt I’ve ever worn.”

“How many shirts have you worn?”

“Some,” he replied with a grin and a noncommittal shrug.

Their small talk was cut short by Marinette’s parents demanding they pose so that pictures could be taken. Then, after a stern reminder from Tom that they had to be back no later than 10.30pm, they were shooed out of the flat.

“I’m sorry about all that,” Marinette said as they stepped out onto the street. The sun had long since set, and leaving only the stars and lamps to light the damp world. She slipped on her jacket, pulling it tight around her. “They’re really glad I’m going...I think they were a little worried about me.”

“It’s cool,” he replied, shrugging on his black leather jacket. “I think it’s sweet. Your parents seem like good people, and they clearly love you a lot.” His mouth tasted bitter, but he swallowed it away and concentrated on walking. Her shoes clacked on the paving stones; his footsteps joined with a syncopated beat.

“Thank you,” she said suddenly. “For—for coming with, that is. I told Alya and she was so excited. And when she told Lila…” A devious smirk that didn’t suit her twitched onto her shiny pink lips. A giggle broke past. “That was a good moment. For, well, a moment. Then....” She shook her; her bun wobbled. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we’re going to have fun!”

Fun wasn’t exactly how Luka would describe the evening he saw ahead. Too many strangers, accidental touches. Loud pop music with too much bass and no guitar. Sugary punch and a jostling crowd attached to the snack table. And dancing and shrieking and the expectation to join in…

It had been said by too many people to ignore that Luka had the wrong disposition for a rock star. He was too calm, too chill. He liked time to himself: empty rooms and underground cafés. But weren’t rock stars meant to enjoy being in a crowd, performing loudly to the mosh-pit of writing bodies below? Shouldn’t he like being in the depth of grunge, drums pounding in his heart, smoke and sweat hot in his mouth? Each breath pulling in the essence of everyone around him, filling him, nourishing him?

No. Because the world is different on a stage. The drums and bass don’t seem so loud when your guitar’s in your hand. The crowds aren’t so stuffy when they’re several feet away, the heat not so unbearable when exhilaration is sending fire searing through your blood.

“Luka?”

He blinked. Once, twice. Marinette watched him curiously.

“Are you okay? You zoned out for a while.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m fine. Just thinking.”

“Okay. If you’re sure…”

A strand of hair had fallen loose from her bun, and now dangled at the side of her face. Luka stopped; she stopped next to him. “Your hair,” he murmured, reaching out to brush the hair behind her ear.

Luka did not blush. He had flushed a few times, when he was a child and called a teacher by the wrong name, and when he was an awkward thirteen year old asking a girl out for the first time. When an old best friend asked him why his dad never turned up to parent-teacher evenings. But as a rule, Luka didn’t blush.

Until now. Because the subtle make-up made her eyes so big they held the entire sky and all of its stars. And his hand was against her skin, the innocent gesture suddenly intimate as his thumb trailed down her jaw to graze her neck, and his heart was thumping louder and deeper than any drumbeat, any bass-line, and he understood the feeling when people wish for the ground to melt beneath their feet and and let them sink out of view.

Marinette smiled, her pink cheeks rounded, and she murmured her barely audible thanks. Luka’s blush deepened.

It was easy to want people from afar. Easy to want when you know you can’t have. Because you can’t fall too deep from far away, and if you can’t fall too deep then your heart doesn’t get bruised.

But Marinette slipped her hand into his, tugged him to make him walk again. And he knew that for as long as she held his hand, he would walk anywhere with her. To edge of the chasm, and over.


	5. Day Five: First Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First touch, in which Marinette can't tie a bun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, day five. 
> 
> Thanks again to everyone who's commented and given kudos. I really love reading your comments, and I'm really glad you're all enjoying this as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

**Day Five: First Touch**

“What do you think, Tikki?” Marinette asked, spinning around on the tips of her toes. The silvery-pink dress fanned out around her legs. 

“It’s beautiful, Marinette!” Tikki squeaked. “Even Chloé won’t be able to say anything bad about it. It’s perfect on you!”

Marinette grinned and stroked Tikki’s head with her finger, giggling. “Thank you. I just need to finish my make-up and put on my shoes…”

“Isn’t it a little early to be putting your shoes on?” Tikki pointed out, settling down on the desk to watch Marinette root around in her drawers for her makeup set. “Luka’s not meant to be here for half an hour.”

Pulling out a black tube, Marinette sighed. “I don’t want to risk leaving him alone with my parents. Don’t you remember what happened with Chat Noir?”

“Do you think your dad would get akumatized over a boy?” Tikki said. “Again?”

“I hope not,” she replied. “But I don’t want to take that risk. I don’t want to deal with any akumas tonight. Just for once, I want a night where I don’t have to be Ladybug and save Paris. I just want to be me, Marinette.” 

It was all well and good being Ladybug, but it was at times quite taxing on her emotional strength. After these past few weeks, trying to get all her work finished on top of sewing a shirt for Luka and adding the finishing touches to her dress, the last thing she wanted was to go battling Hawmoth’s latest victim. 

Not to mention, she sometimes found herself feeling a little jealous of Ladybug, which was ridiculous because she _ was _Ladybug. But it didn’t change the fact that no one else knew that, and therefore treated her like a different person. A better person, a hero. Everyone cheered when Ladybug swung onto the scene, clapped when she won, sympathised when she made mistakes. But when Marinette entered a room, she was barely acknowledged now that Lila was in the picture. Every victory was undermined, every failure twisted to feed Lila’s narrative. It would be nice to have an evening where she received a positive reaction as Marinette, not just Ladybug. 

That’s why she liked hanging out with Luka. Because he liked her as Marinette. And it was genuine. But maybe that was just because he hadn’t met Lila yet. Because Lila hadn’t had the chance to seduce him with her fantastic lies. 

Would he succumb? Marinette liked to think he was too genuine, too good at reading people, to be fooled. But she had once thought the same of Alya. 

Tikki flew up to nuzzle Marinette’s cheek, snapping her back to the present. 

“Are you okay?” she asked. “You looked sad.”

Quickly forcing a smile, Marinette unscrewed the top of her mascara and looked to the mirror. “I’m fine, Tikki. Just thinking.”

After applying makeup, only a little because she didn’t want to risk spilling any of it on her dress, she turned her attention to her hair. A bun would be best, she decided, but she couldn’t decide where on her head to place it, or what sort of bun, or if she should tie it with a ribbon or an invisible hair-grip, or maybe even ask her mother to borrow her ornamental chopsticks to hold in in place.

Before she knew it, half an hour had gone by, and her mother was coming up through the trapdoor. Tikki phased into a closed drawer to hide.

“Your friend’s here, sweetie,” Sabine said. “Are you nearly ready?”

Marinette moaned and let her hair fall limp down around her neck. “No…”

“Sit down,” Sabine instructed, pulling out the desk chair. “Let me do it.”

“Thanks, maman.”

Marinette watched in the mirror as, with the skill and grace of well-practised hands, Sabine twisted and coiled her hair up into a neat bun. But Marinette’s eyes kept slipping to one side where plastered around the frame were several pictures of Adrien. Something like guilt or shame prickled in her stomach, but she didn’t care to dwell on it too much. Not today. 

When Sabine had finished arranging her hair, she took two ribbons from an open craft box, one pale pink, one dark blue, and tied them around the bun. Their long tails to fluttered down and tickled her upper back. 

As Marinette was about to stand up to thank her, she felt something cold being placed around her neck and looked down to see a silver pendant shaped like a flower glinting on her skin. “Maman?”

“I thought you needed a little glitzing up,” Sabine said, fastening the necklace. “Your father bought this for me years ago, and when I saw that embroidery on the shirt you made for your friend I thought this would go perfectly.” 

“Thank you,” Marinette breathed, tracing the edges of the pendant with her fingertip. “It’s beautiful.”

“Just like you, my flower.” Sabine kissed the top of her head then stepped away, heading back towards the door. “I’ll see how your friend’s getting on. Join us when you’re ready. He’s a handsome boy, isn’t he?”

“Maman!”

The door thudded shut, leaving Marinette red-faced and alone. 

Sabine had said the same thing about Adrien when she’d noticed the photos. So why did it feel wrong when she said the same thing of Luka? Why did it make her stomach twinge uncomfortably? Because part of her wished it was Adrien she was going to the dance with, not Luka? 

Marinette blinked hard and shook her head, ashamed of herself. Luka was a great guy. More than great. And was just as objectively handsome as Adrien. And it wasn’t like this was a romantic date. Just two friends going to a dance. 

She was shaken into action by a giggly Tikki, and spent a minute charging around, hunting desperately for her shoes so she could save Luka from her parents before they asked too many awkward questions. Finally, after finding the low, white heels where she had left them—in her wardrobe—she grabbed her navy jacket and fled the room. 

Marinette burst into the living room to see Sabine holding up a camera and smirking at a somewhat flustered Luka. “Maman!” she cried. “You said you weren’t going to take photos!”

Sabine rolled her eyes playfully. “I say a lot of things. Now come over here! Oh, you two look so good together!”

Hoping her embarrassment wasn’t obvious, she sloped over to Luka. She had to admit, he looked good in his new shirt. The colour brought out the blues in his eyes, and the fit accentuated his wiry muscles and slim build. The embroidery of his right shoulder matched the pattern she’d sewn onto a dress, inspired by the second pick he’d given her. 

“Marinette,” he said. His voice was a little raspy, as though he’d just woken up. “You look great.”

“Thanks.” She smiled; it felt too wide on her mouth. “How does the shirt fit? Is it okay?”

“It’s brilliant. Best shirt I’ve ever worn.”

“How many shirts have you worn?”

“Some,” he replied cheekily. 

“Come on, you two,” Tom boomed, holding his arms out. “Stand over here for photos! No, a little closer. Don’t be shy…”

After ten minutes of arranging and rearranging her and Luka, taking picture after picture, and making amused comments whenever Marinette blushed, her parents finally let them leave.

“Be sure she’s back here by 10.30pm!” Tom called while his wife ushered them down the stairs. “Usually it’d be 10pm, but I like you, Luka.”

Marinette shut the door a little louder than she intended and groaned. What would he think? Luka was so cool, and his family so chill. She couldn’t see Anarka and Juleka clamouring all over him with a camera whenever he dressed up. “I’m sorry about all that,” she apologised, slipping on her jacket. “They’re really glad I’m going...I think they were a little worried about me.”

But, to her relief, he smiled that sincere smile of his and began walking down the street. “It’s cool. I thought it was sweet,” he said. “Your parents seem like good people, and they clearly love you a lot.”

There was something awkward about the way he spoke that last line, as though he’d eaten something he shouldn’t have and was trying to avoid the tasting it in his teeth. Perhaps it was just her imagination, or maybe he had thought it was such an awkward introduction to her parents that he was rethinking his entire friendship with her. 

Something wiggled in her jacket. Marinette discreetly opened one flap to peer inside and found Tikki watching her from the extra large inside-pocket she’d sewn in specially. The kwami gave her an encouraging smile before burrowing back into the warmth depths, where she had no doubt secreted a cookie or two.

Marinette returned the smile then took a deep breath. “Thank you,” she said. Her voice startled the still night. “For—for coming with me, that is. I told Alya and she was so excited. And when she told Lila…”

Marinette couldn’t help but grin sardonically. She remembered it clearly, having replayed the memory several times since. Lila had been lamenting that a lycée boy had been desperate to accompany her to the dance after her quick-thinking and ability to perform surgery had saved his dog after it got hit by a nun on a bicycle, but couldn’t because he didn’t want to be the only non-collège student in attendance. Alya, still hoping to reconcile her two best friends, pointed out that Marinette was going with a boy in lycée. No one noticed the way Lila crushed her carton of soya milk—she couldn’t eat dairy after her near-death-experience in a cheese factory—or how her smile didn’t reach her conniving eyes. No one but Marinette. 

“That was a good moment,” Marinette continued, pulling the sleeves of her jacket past her cold hands. “For, well, a moment. Then…” She faltered. The very next day, Lila had changed her tune. Going with a lycée boy would be attention-seeking, and she wouldn’t want to force someone from another school to have to hang around with strangers for an entire evening. It would just be so awkward. 

“It doesn’t matter,” she finished hurriedly. “What matters is that we’re going to have fun!”

Because that’s what was important. Go out, have fun, never mind how Lila or Chloé would try to ruin things. Never mind whether or not Adrien would turn up. Never mind the guilt at taking Luka as her date when she was still in love with Adrien. 

She was still in love with Adrien, right?

Marinette groaned to herself and rubbed the side of her head, fingers tangling in her hair. A strand came loose. Not the time to think about such things. Just get through the evening, then she’d have the winter break for some sorely-needed introspection.

She glanced at Luka. He was staring ahead, eyes like a cloudy sky. His frown didn’t suit him; it pulled his face down and made him look older, drained. 

“Luka?” she asked gently, startling him. “Are you okay? You zoned out for a while.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I’m fine. Just thinking.”

“Okay. If you’re sure…”

He stopped walking suddenly, and Marinette turned to face him, about to ask what was wrong but she found herself mute. There was a strange intensity in his eyes as he leaned forward, raising a hand to her face. The streetlamp behind him bathed his dark hair like the sun igniting the moon. 

“Your hair,” Luka murmured. He carefully pushed a stray lock of hair away from his face and behind her ear. His thumb lingered on her jaw.

It wasn’t the first time he’d touched her. Several times his hands had grazed her arm, or their knees had brushed against each other when sitting together on his bed. Once he had held her body above his head whilst gliding across an ice-rink. 

But somehow, this touch felt different, like a first touch. Maybe it was the intimacy of his face near hers, the warmth of his skin. Maybe it was the reddish tinge in his cheeks, or the stars shining bright in his eyes. 

It didn’t matter that he wasn’t Adrien. 

He was Luka. Kind, gentle, funny, thoughtful, generous Luka. And that was more than enough. 

Marinette smiled. Warmth bubbled in her chest. “Thanks,” she whispered as his hand fell from her face. She caught it with her own and squeezed her fingers around his. 

They continued walking, but a silence grew between them. Heavy, but not oppressive. Warm, but not hot. Like the bulge of air between two magnets. The sort of silence that crawls under one’s skin, seeps into the blood, fills the heart with something a hair’s breadth from comprehension. 

“It’s so dark out,” Marnette blurted. The silence scared her. “At least it’s not far to school.”

“I like the dark,” he said quietly. Not distracted, not sad, just quiet. Thoughtful perhaps. “You can see the stars better. It’s easier without all these street lamps though.” 

“Oh. Do you stargaze a lot?”

“Used to. Not so much these days.” Luka’s smile was a little melancholy, weighed down by memories past, near enough to see but too far to touch. “I keep meaning to get back into it, but…Well, the streets are surprisingly loud at night, especially where we dock. And, you know, it’s cold.”

Marinette snorted. “You sound like an old man.”

“Maybe I am an old man.”

She laughed again, gaze shifting from his face to the stars beyond, paled by the amber glow of the street lamps. She knew there was a host of constellations, characters, stories written up there, but the dots and clusters were indecipherable, a foreign language. “Do, um, do you think you could show me?” she asked. “The stars. I mean, the constellations. I don’t know any.”

“I can teach you some. In fact, I can show you one right now.” He stopped; they were near the school, so close Marinette could hear the low thud of music. Luka pointed up. “Do you see those three stars?”

Marinette squinted, raising a hand to block the light of the nearest street lamp. “Yeah.”

“That’s part of Orion, easiest constellation to find. There’s three stars like a triangle above, do you see them? Those are his hands and head. Then two beneath; those are his feet. When it’s really dark you can see the cluster that makes his sword. He’s a good one to start with because his belt is so recognisable.”

Marinette scanned the area around the three stars, eventually locating the hands and head. “Oh yeah. That’s so cool.” She looked back to Luka, who had a sneaky grin. Marinette desperately pushed down the thought that he looked _ far _too good when he grinned like that. 

“You know what Orion’s belt is, right?” he asked slyly. 

“No?”

“It’s to stop Orion’s trousers falling down.”

“Oh my gosh!” she cried, failing miserably to stop herself from giggling. “You’re such a dork.”

He was laughing too, the sounds flying free and unrestrained into the night, louder and more melodic than the school’s music thumping under her feet. And for a moment, she wanted to skip the dance. She wanted to kick off her shoes and feel the grass beneath her toes, and run hand-in-hand to the beat of his laughter and surround herself with the glimmering stars. 

“Shall we go in?” he asked, nodding at the school building. 

She pressed her lips together, curled her toes in her shoes, then nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “Let’s.”

He had stopped laughing, and the stars above stayed firmly put. But his hand was in hers, and that was enough for now.


	6. Day Six: First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First kiss, in which Luka and Marinette attend the dance.

**Day Six: First Kiss**

"Marinette! Girl, you look amazing!" Alya squealed, charging across the hall with her arms outstretched, Nino trailing behind. Her dress, bright orange and ruffled, looked like a flame under the lights. It suited her, Luka thought as Marinette met Alya in a tight embrace.

The hall had been nicely decked out with gold and red streamers. A large Christmas tree stood tall at one end where long tables piled with snacks and punch bowls were set up, and by the adjacent wall were several smaller tables and chairs. A disco ball hung above the dance floor, sending shards of light glittering on the students shimmying and swaying to the beat of the music. It was also quite hot, so Luka immediately shrugged off his jacked and looped it over his arm. But there was nothing he could do about the noise, the way the music seeped into his head, invaded his mind, buzzed and thrummed.

"Wow, Alya, I love that colour on you, it's gorgeous!" Marinette raved. "Hey, Nino! You look great too!"

Nino, wearing a green button-down and khaki trousers, grinned and rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks, dudette."

"Luka, you sure clean up good," Alya remarked, smirking, one hip cocked. "I nearly didn't recognise you without your hoodie."

"Thanks," he said. "Marinette made it."

"I should've guessed! Come on, let's go sit down."

They found a free table to sit at in the corner, a safe distance from the dance floor, where Luka and Nino left the girls to chat while they went to grab drinks.

"Did you guys walk down with Juleka?" Nino asked, grabbing two paper cups from the stack by the punch bowl.

"Nah, she got ready at Rose's place. I think M. Lavillant gave them a lift down. I should probably find her at some point…"

"We haven't seen them, so they might not be here yet."

"In that case, she can find me," Luka said, grinning.

"Oh, dude, do you know Blaise?"

Luka furrowed his brow as he ladled suspiciously pink punch into two cups. "Blaise…?"

"I don't know his surname," Nino said. "He asked Lila to the dance? Apparently he goes to the same music lycée as you. Takes guitar and music mixing?"

"Music mixing?" Luka frowned. "I didn't know you could take music mixing. As a specific class, I mean. I don't know any guitarists called Blaise though. Maybe he's in another year?"

"Yeah, that must be it." Nino sighed. "I was hoping you'd know him. He sounds like a cool connection to have, you know. For my DJ stuff? But Lila won't tell me how to get hold of him…"

"Sorry, I can't help you there. But I know a few guys who are into that sort of stuff. I'm sure I could get you in contact with them."

"Really? Dude, you're the best!"

When they returned to the table, Marinette and Alya had been joined by another girl. Her long, brown hair was tied back from her face, and her olive green eyes had a boastful glint to them. Something about her felt out of tune, a chord played with a loose string.

Alya appeared quite happy to see her, body angled towards the newcomer. But Marinette sat with her face turned stubbornly away, mouth screwed to one side. Luka sat down next to her, leg pressed against hers, and leaned across to whisper, "You alright?"

"Yeah," Marinette mumbled back.

"Hey, Lila. You finally made it," Nino greeted, placing the two cups of punch he was holding on the table.

The girl, Lila, laughed loudly and stood up to spin around. She wore a long, rust-coloured jumpsuit with a cape-like skirt attached which fluttered around her. "Do you like my dress? I made it myself!"

Marinette huffed quietly and rolled her eyes, but said nothing. Luka passed her a cup.

"Wow, it's great!" Nino praised.

"Look at all this detailing on the sleeves," Alya gushed, poking the little flowers decorating the straps, each glinting with a tiny bead. "This must have taken you hours! Maybe you could teach Marinette a thing or two!"

"I'd be happy to teach her a few techniques," Lila said, her voice a touch too sweet. "That is, if she wants me to. I've been sewing since I was three so some of the techniques I use might be a little advanced… Oh! And you must be Marinette's date! The lycée boy! Wait, aren't you Juleka's older brother? Luke? Aw, it was so nice of you to take Marinette! She was so mopey when Adrien said he couldn't come—we thought she wouldn't come unless someone asked her!"

Luka watched Marinette's face turn an interesting shade of pink that could have rivalled the punch, but beneath he knew she was a violent scarlet, like the clash of a cymbal or the shriek of a trumpet. He cleared his throat, derailing the conversation. "So, you're Lila," he said. "I've heard a lot about you from Juleka."

"Oh, really?" Lila giggled, one shoulder rising in a flirtatious manner. "How embarrassing!"

"Mmhmm, so what year is your friend Blaise?" he asked. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Marinette staring at him with an expression of irritation and defeat.

"O—Oh! You probably don't know him," Lila said, laughing awkwardly and waving her hand. "He goes to the music lycée…"

"So do I. Maybe I know him. What year is he?" Luka repeated.

Lila's smile flickered. "He's in the advanced class," she said. "So you won't have classes with him anyway."

"Oh, the advanced class." Luka nodded, but he knew there was no such thing as an advanced class. And she knew it too. But Alya didn't, and Nino didn't. And Marinette…

Marinette was staring into her half-finished cup; caught somewhere between despair and anger. He remembered now. She'd mentioned Lila before: a figure of grief, and he could see why. Every word she said was a lie—blatant and shameless. But Luka was not a confrontational person, so he did the only other thing he could think of. He downed the rest of his punch, grimacing at the sickly sweetness, and stood. His chair scraped across the ground.

"Dance with me?" he asked, offering her his hand.

Finally, a smile broke across her face. She shrugged off her jacket and draped it over the back of her chair then took his hand. He pulled her to her feet, guided her to the dance floor where a plethora of couples were already moving to the beat of the thundering music.

"I thought you didn't dance," Marinette teased as they weaved through the dancers, trying not to trip up on anyone's feet.

"You looked like you needed rescuing," he replied. "She's an interesting one…"

"That's one word for it... Been sewing since she was three, please. And she didn't make that dress; I saw it in a shop window two months ago."

"Why didn't you call her out on it? If you know she's lying?"

"Because whenever I do, she twists it into me being jealous and turns people against me…" She sighed, shut her eyes. "I don't want to talk about that right now though...I want to have a good time."

"Let's have a good time then."

He hid his nerves with his smile, tugged her closer, earning a laugh. She leaned up to rest her hands on his shoulders, grinned when he shyly dropped his to her waist, and they swayed.

* * *

Marinette should have known it was too good to last. Despite running into Lila and being subjected to more of her ridiculous lies, even that couldn't take away from the exhilaration of twirling around the dance floor with a handsome, older student whose soft smile was so infectious she knew her cheeks would be hurting for days afterwards.

Then Chloé had turned up, all yellow tulle and glittery eye-shadow, and made a ruckus by picking fights with every girl she came across.

Marinette had tried to remain positive, and grit her teeth when Chloé asked what garbage can she'd dug her dress out of.

"She's just jealous," Luka assured, leaning down to murmur in her ear, making her skin prickle. "She knows you made it yourself. Besides, something else is upsetting her. She came in looking to cause a scene."

His point was proved when, not five minutes later, they heard her shrieking at Max. "Excuse you, Kanté. The only reason I don't have a date is because Adrien's stupid dad wouldn't let him go! Now get me a drink or get out of my way!"

Still, she hadn't been expecting to suddenly feel a cold, sticky sensation run down her back as an entire cup of punch was dumped on her head.

"Whoops!" Chloé shrilled, chucking the empty cup over her shoulder. "Silly me! Don't look so upset, Dupain-Cheng. I improved that hideous rag you call a dress!"

She swaggered off, cackling, heels clicking on the ground. Someone yelled, "Hey!" and the hands on Marinette's waist tightened their grip slightly.

She blinked. Syrupy punch dripped down her skin, seeping deeper into her dress. She didn't want to know what the stain looked like; she already knew it wouldn't wash out. Tears pricked in the corner of her eyes. All those hours of sewing and embroidering, made for nothing in an instant.

"Are you okay, Marinette?" came Luka's soothing voice. She blinked again, harder to squash the tears, and looked at him, looked at the anger in his eyes melt into concern. She forced a nod.

"Yeah. I, um, I'm gonna go...clean up in the bathroom."

"Okay," he said. She turned to flee, but chanced a quick glance over her shoulder and saw Luka's sympathy turn into a murderous rage as he marched in the direction Chloé had gone.

Hoping he wouldn't do anything silly, or turn into Silencer again, Marinette hurried to the bathroom with her head down, crashing into people as she went. The nearest bathroom was busy with girls redoing their makeup and giggling, so Marinette ran past and headed instead for the one upstairs.

Empty. Marinette flung herself at the nearest sink, breathing deep, fingers turning white against the porcelain. Gathering courage, she looked up. From the front, her dress looked okay, but her bun was falling down on one side and her makeup was smudged around her eyes. She gingerly untied her hair, wincing at the sticky ribbons, and sighed as the dark, wet locks fell lank around her face.

Then, slowly, she turned around, craning her neck to see the mirror. Dark pink sprawled across her back, wrinkling the delicate fabric, stretching down into the skirt. It would never come out; the dress would never be the same. At least, she thought bitterly as she grabbed handfuls of tissue from the dispenser, her parents had pictures to remember it by.

Marinette had managed to dab most of the punch from the exposed skin of her back, and was debating whether or not she should take off her dress to do the rest of her back or wait to get home first, when Tikki phased through the door in a panic.

"Marinette!" she cried. "Akuma!"

"Don't tell me it's…"

"It's not Luka. A girl. She called herself Belle of the Ball. You need to become Ladybug!"

Marinette cast another sad look in the mirror and nodded. "I needed to get changed anyway. Spots On!"

* * *

Ladybug rushed down the corridor, yoyo spinning at her side, looking for signs of the akumatized victim. People were in a panic, running and screaming, but a few whooped and hollered when they spotted her, however, and pointed to the dance hall.

"Ladybug!" someone called. It was Luka. "My friend Marinette! She—"

"She's safe," Ladybug assured quietly. "She's hiding in the bathroom."

Luka sighed in relief. "Good. I was worried."

"You thought she was the akuma?" Ladybug asked; her stomach flopped, but he shook his head.

"No, she's too strong for that. I'm just glad she's okay."

Ladybug smiled as something warm settled in her chest. "She's lucky to have a friend like you."

Suddenly, the doors to the dance hall were wrenched off their hinges by a blast of golden light, and Belle of the Ball emerged from the cloud of debris. Her dress, long and pale, shimmered like a diamond. "Where is Chloé?" she roared, dark hair rippling around her head as if caught in a phantom wind. She held a rose in one hand, and a mirror in the other. The akuma had to be in one of them, but which?

"Wow," someone said from a high window. "You sure are beautiful. It's a shame your beauty's only skin-deep!"

"Nice of you to join in, Chat Noir!" Ladybug called.

"I couldn't let you go to the ball by yourself, Cinderella." Chat Noir leapt down and performed a mock bow, head up to give her a smirk.

Belle of the Ball's powers at first seemed to be a simple point-and-shoot: she held up the mirror and destructive golden beams shot out to blast holes in the walls and ceiling. However, they quickly learned that she had a second power: the power to turn people into a large, hairy monsters via red beams from the rose.

The battle was long. With her legion of beasts growing ever larger, Ladybug and Chat Noir were grossly outnumbered. Lucky Charm provided another mirror, baffling them.

"You don't need that, m'lady. You look purr-fect as ever," Chat Noir cooed before being promptly blasted out of the air.

Eventually, they managed to use the mirror to direct one of Belle's red beams back at her, transfiguring her into a furry monster. In her despair, she accidentally smashed her own mirror and released the akuma. After purifying it, performing the miraculous cure, and warding off Chat Noir's advances, Ladybug swung out of the nearest window only to double back into the upstairs bathroom.

She had hoped that the miraculous cure might have fixed more than just the akuma's damage, but when she transformed back into Marinette she found the back of her dress was still sticky and stained.

"I'm sorry, Marinette," Tikki said sadly, collapsing in her outstretched hand. "I couldn't reach far back enough to fix your dress...is there anyway you can clean it?"

"Not without paying a small fortune at a dry cleaners," Marinette replied, twisting her other arm to touch the pink stain. She wasn't sure whether or not she was glad that it was mostly dry. Her skin felt less gross, but now even a dry cleaner might not be able to get it out. She sighed. "This whole evening as been a disaster."

Someone knocked on the door. "Marinette? Are you in there?"

"Luka?" Marinette looked quickly in the mirror then grabbed a paper towel to hastily wipe away the smudged make-up under her eyes. It half-worked; there were still black flecks under her eyelash line, but it would have to do. After checking Tikki was hiding, she hurried to open the door and came face-to-face with a pale Luka.

"Are you okay?" he asked. He was holding her jacket, and had his own draped over one shoulder. "That akuma seemed dangerous."

"I'm fine," she replied. "Ladybug told me to hide in here, so I didn't even see it."

It wasn't a lie. Not really. Marinette never saw the akuma.

"Good." He smiled; it was small and sad. "Do you want to go back down?"

Marinette glanced down at her dress, at the limp hair slithering in front of her shoulder, and shook her head. "Honestly, I just want to go home."

"Sure? Your jacket would probably cover most of that stain…"

"I'm sure."

"I understand." He opened up her jacket, inviting her to slip into it. "Let's get you home, then."

They headed down and bypassed the dance hall, which once again thundered with music. As they walked, Marinette discreetly checked her inside pocket; Tikki's sympathetic face stared back.

* * *

The cool, December air was refreshing on Luka's face as they stepped out of the stuffy school. He breathed deeply through his nose, relishing the cold, sharp sting in his nostrils and lungs. For the first time since entering, his head stopped buzzing and shrilling and whining like an orchestra tuning up.

Marinette's broken expression was a solo cello in an empty room. He nearly wrapped an arm around her shoulders, but he stopped himself. "You sure you're okay?"

"I will be," she mumbled, her toes dragging across the ground with every step. "I just...it's all too much, sometimes. I can deal with Chloé. And I can deal with Lila. And I can deal with akuma attacks and everything else but…" She sniffed and rubbed her eyes. "But tonight I just, I can't." With a noise somewhere between a sigh and a sob, she leaned sideways, pressing her face into Luka's arm. "This is stupid! This is so stupid! It's just a dance and a dress. Why am I so upset?"

Luka awkwardly tried to worm his arm out from under her head to gently drape it around her body in what he hoped was a comforting manner. "Dances, dresses...those things are important at your age."

She snorted, but didn't pull away. "At my age? You're only two years older," she said, voice still thick with emotion.

"In body, perhaps. But my soul is about eighty."

"Okay, grandpa."

"Okay, ma-ma-Marinette."

She moved her head slightly to wipe her eyes again. A small part of Luka was pleased she hadn't moved out of his light embrace, and another part of him felt guilty for being pleased.

I'm sorry about tonight," she murmured. "This must have been such a waste of time for you…"

"You don't have to apologise. Hanging out with you is never a waste of time."

"I'm just...I'm sorry you went through all that trouble, picking me up, dealing with my parents, just to dance for five minutes then leave!"

"It really wasn't that much trouble," he assured her. "And even if it had been, it would have been worth it for those five minutes dancing with you. It's not every night a guy gets to dance with the most beautiful girl at the ball."

Marinette turned a brilliant shade of scarlet, but at least a smile crept its way across her. "I, you don't mean that…"

"Of course I do," he replied. He meant it, and he hoped she knew it too.

It was dark inside the flat when they returned. Marinette peered through the window in the door then rolled off her tip-toes and tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Not sure if they've gone to bed, or hiding…"

"Well, only one way to find out."

She grinned and turned to him. "Thanks for everything today. I wish it had gone better…"

"Hey, every evening's a good one when I'm with you."

"Yeah, okay…" she laughed, rolling her eyes. "Goodnight, grandpa."

The wind pushed her hair in front of her face, so he reached out to brush it away. "Goodnight, ma-ma-Marinette," he murmured back.

Her smile slowly dropped. Her eyes were so close now he could nearly see stars written across them. "Goodnight, Luka," she whispered.

He wasn't sure if he moved first, or if she did, or if they both did. Or if the universe had simply moved them closer together. But her lips were soft, tentative against his, and her hand was on his shoulder, and his fingers were caught in her hair, and the world felt right. Righter than it had felt in a long while.

Marinette pulled back, the misty wonder in her eyes fading quickly into alarm. "I, well, thank you! And, err, g-goodnight!" she stammered then bolted through the door, leaving Luka alone with the street lamps and stars.

And the tingling on his lips.


	7. Day Seven: Second Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second chance, in which Marinette takes her head out the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, sorry. I'm not particularly happy with this one, but I haven't had the time today to really go through it properly. Apologies. Hope you enjoy regardless!
> 
> As usual, thanks so much for all your kind comments!

**Day Seven: Second Chance**

A week had passed since the dance last Friday, and Marinette still had her head firmly in the ground. Like an ostrich. A cowardly ostrich. An awful, cowardly ostrich. How could she have let it happen? How could she have been so foolish? Betrayed Adrien that way?

But was it betraying him if he didn't know how she felt?

Was it hurting Luka if he _did _know how she felt?

She wasn't even sure which part she felt most guilty about. Was it when she'd kissed him? When she'd run away? Or when she'd spent a solid week ignoring his texts. Ignoring everyone's texts.

She would have carried on ignoring him, right through until Christmas and into the new year, if it wasn't for Tikki suddenly appearing in front of her face with her little arms folded.

"Marinette!" she said. Her voice was like scalding water. "Luka's outside."

"What!?" she shrieked, launching herself across the room to stare out the window. Indeed there was Luka, across the road, sitting on a low brick ledge with his fingers tented beneath his chin. Marinette ducked out of sight and let her head fall against the wall. "What do I do?"

"Talk to him."

"I can't. Not after what happened! What will he think?"

"The only way to find out what he thinks is to talk to him," Tikki said. She flew across the room and picked up Marinette's phone. "At least read his texts."

Marinette hesitantly accepted the phone then peeked out the window again. Luka had pulled his phone out too and seemed to be typing something. Moments later, her screen lit up with a new message.

__**Friday 21.54  
****L: I'm really sorry about today. Can I take you out for a coffee to make up for it?**  
L: Or hot chocolate if you don't like coffee?  
L: You did look beautiful today by the way. I hope your dress can be salvaged. Goodnight mamamarinette x

_ **Saturday 14.38  
** _ **L: Do you want to hang out this afternoon? Or tomorrow? Theres a fair in town**

_ **Monday 12.02  
** _ **L: Please talk to me. I'm worried**

__**Tuesday 9.47  
****L: Are you ignoring me because of that kiss?**  
L: We can pretend it never happened if that makes you feel better  
L: Marinette?

__**Wednesday 13.11  
****L: Im sorry I kissed you.**  
L: Please give me a second chance just being friends  
L: Im sorry. I just want to know that youre alright. Youre ignoring Jules texts too

_ **Friday 10.26** _ **  
L: Sorry if my texts have been bugging you. I promise this is the last one. But can you please reply to Jules? She's worried and from the sounds of it your other friends are too. We care about you.**

Marinette's insides flopped and writhed as she read the texts before sinking into the pit of her stomach. Somehow, she felt even worse.

"Oh, Tikki," she mumbled. "What do I say to him?"

"What do you want to say?" she asked. "How do you feel?"

"I...I don't know. Ugh…" Groaning, Marinette buried her head in her arms and tried to squeeze herself out of existence. "I love Adrien. But I kissed Luka. Why would I kiss Luka when I love Adrien?"

She looked up; Adrien's pictures looked back from around her mirror, behind her desk, across the walls. She still _loved_ Adrien, didn't she?

Then why did her thoughts lack conviction?

Marinette looked at her phone again, reread Luka's texts, then began her reply. She rewrote it a few times until she was happy.

**M: sorry i havent been replying. i havent even looked at my phone since the dance**

(it was a lie, but she couldn't bring herself to admit her cowardice)

**M: i think we need to talk. im free now if you are?**

Part of her hoped her wasn't free, that he was outside her window because he was passing by on his way to something hugely important. She peered outside again; he had moved along the street as though leaving, but now stood in the middle of the pavement staring at his phone. Within seconds he replied.

**L: I'm free. I'm not far from your house**

Marinette looked to Tikki and sighed.

**M: ill put my shoes on and meet you outside**

After checking the temperature on her phone—four degrees and a strong wind, cold enough for a scarf—she pulled on her boots, grey coat, and a pink scarf then made her way downstairs. Her parents stopped her before she could leave.

"Are you going out to see your friend Luka?" Sabine asked, piling warm pastries into a paper bag. "Some of his clothes are still here; I'm surprised you haven't returned them already. They're just here…" She passed the paper bag to a customer then ducked down behind the counter, reemerging with a white t-shirt and a hoodie.

"Thanks, maman," Marinette said, grabbing the clothes. Then, waving her and her father goodbye, she left. Unsurprisingly, Luka was already waiting for her on the bakery doorstep.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," he replied. "How are you doing?"

Marinette shrugged, shifting her feet. "I'm okay. Should we go to the park?"

It was cold and bright, but the sky was a confusingly warm shade of blue. Bare trees lined the park, like bunches of twigs held together with sheer will and magic. It had been raining yesterday, and some of the residue had frozen like a fine layer of glass. Marinette kept her head down, watching her feet tread carefully on the tarmac and ice, crunching the odd leaf that had landed in her path. A brisk wind yanked her scarf and hair.

They soon found a bench and sat down. Marinette bundled the clothes on her lap then held them out to Luka, not looking at his face. "These are yours. You left them here last Friday… I completely forgot about them. I'm sorry."

"Honestly, so did I," Luka said, accepting them. "Thanks. I still need to give you back your shirt."

"My shirt? Oh!" She shook her head. "No, you keep it. I'm not going to wear it."

"Won't you want to use it for something? Photoshoot for your website or a competition?"

"No, I made it for you." She tried to smile but still couldn't bring herself to look at him. "If you give it back then you won't have any shirts."

"Well, when you put it like that…" He chuckled, but it sounded hollow. "It'll be worth thousands when you're a famous fashion designer. Maybe I should get you to sign it, to prove it's an authentic Marinette from her early days."

"I'd rather you wear it. It looks good on you."

He chuckled again, with more life this time. More soul. Marinette felt herself relax a little, shoulders leaning into the back of the bench. It was so _easy_ to talk to Luka. Even after the dance and the kiss and the ignored texts; it was like none of it had occurred. Which, she supposed, was his intention. Hadn't he said they could pretend like nothing had happened?

They could pretend all they liked, but that didn't change the fact that something _had_ happened. So, she breathed in, the cold air stabbing her lungs, and mustered whatever courage still lingered in her body.

"I'm so sorry about ignoring you," she blurted, a little too fast. She hoped he heard it. "I just, after everything…"

"It's okay," he replied softly. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"No!" she yelped, twisting her head to look at him, not liking the bleakness in his eyes. "You never make me uncomfortable! You're very comfortable! Uh, I mean...that didn't come out right…"

"I just mean, you know, after the, uh—" Luka turned away, flustered. "The kiss. I thought—"

"Oh, no! I, it's just, after everything earlier...it was a bit much. I was a little overwhelmed. Please don't take it personally…"

He smiled but his eyes were still sad. "Look, Marinette, I have to tell you something. I really like you. I mean _really_ like you."

Marinette's heart stuttered like a broken machine before suddenly launching into overdrive. "I—Luka…"

"But," he continued, "I know it's not that simple for you. With Adrien and everything. I'm not expecting an answer now, or ever. But I just wanted you to know. You can do with it as you wish. I just...you're an extraordinary girl, Marinette. You deserve to be told that you're loved every day."

Perhaps he didn't notice how he had gone from 'really like' to 'love', but Marinette noticed. Something flashed in her chest; she couldn't tell if it was hot or cold, just strong. It made her skin tingle from her face to her feet.

It wasn't the first time someone had told her they loved her; Chat Noir told Ladybug nearly every time there was an akuma attack. But there was too much expectation, too much pressure to shut him down, too much worry he would end up upset with her again.

It wasn't the first time Luka had said it either. But it was different this time. Whereas his first confession was beautiful, it was masked behind pretty similes. Here, so plainly said, so explicit…

So selfless, because he didn't expect anything back.

Finally, she looked at him. His eyes were as warm and intense as the sky, but his smile was gentle. "Luka," Marinette breathed. "Thank you."

There was the feeling of more things unsaid lingering like misted breath in the space between his face and hers. Unsaid because they weren't yet known, or unsaid because they were?


	8. Day Eight: Strings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strings, in which Marinette is subject to Operation: Christmas Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just got around to watching Reflekdoll and Desperada. I have a lot of feelings about both, especially in regards to my precious Luka. Some good, some bad...some moments which made me want to throw myself out of a window. Oh dear. 
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and whatnot. I'm really glad so many people are enjoying this! It makes writing new chapters a lot easier knowing people are looking forward to the next chapter (for one thing, it's pressure to get it written in time ;P)

**Day Eight: Strings**

"Come on, girl! Today's the day! I know for sure Adrien's gonna be there."

Usually, those words would send Marinette's heart into hysterical palpitations. But today...yes, her heart did beat a little faster and her skin went all cold and hot and she nearly choked on her own breath...but it wasn't the same.

Like her body had reacted on autopilot.

She had been feeling like that for a while, since she met up with Luka in the park. Adrien's photos still covered her walls, and she still kept a trunk full of presents for a few decades' worth of birthdays, and she still stammered and stuttered at him around school, but none of it felt like it was _her_ behind those things.

Nevertheless, she grabbed a neatly wrapped parcel from her desk and stood up. "Ready."

Christmas and New Years had been and gone, bringing with them light snow and freezing winds. Alya had thrown a party for their class at which presents were exchanged. Marinette had made most of hers from scratch: sets of gloves and scarves and pieces of jewellery. A beanie hat for Luka which she embroidered with music notes and stars.

But Adrien hadn't made it to the party. 'Prior commitments' kept him, but they all knew that was code for his father was still a sour old man who didn't believe people should be allowed to have fun. Neither could he make it to the impressive New Years soirée Chloé had thrown and, surprisingly, invited them all to.

Marinette hadn't had the chance to properly enjoy herself, despite the fact that Lila was away in Italy for Christmas, because Hawkmoth had seen fit to unleash another akuma. As it was, during the countdown to midnight, Ladybug was hiding from a broken-hearted mecha-robot and fighting off Chat Noir's advances and his determination to get a midnight kiss from her.

By the time she'd gotten back to the party, it was well-past midnight and her parents were expecting her home.

That was why, a few days into January, Alya had arranged a little get-together so she, Marinette and Nino could give Adrien their presents. And vitally, Adrien confirmed he could make it.

"Come on," Alya urged, tugging on Marinette's arm. "We're going to be late! We don't want to keep the boys waiting."

They hurried downstairs, waving to Marinette's parents who had closed the bakery for a week, and ran into the street. A thin layer of snow coated the streets, thicker near the buildings where it hadn't been trampled flat, and the chilly wind bit their faces, staining their cheeks pink. Thick, white clouds obscured the sky.

The meeting place was a little café down the road with squashy red sofas and spindle-legged tables. The boys were already there; they had snagged a round table in the corner with a sofa and two armchairs. Alya joined Nino on the sofa, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and Marinette took the free armchair. Four cups sat on the table, emitting the heavenly scent of chocolate and cream.

"Joyeux Noёl!" Alya chimed. "Aw, you got us our drinks already too!"

"Sure did." Nino grinned, slinging an arm around her. "Cinnamon for you, and peppermint for Marinette."

"Thanks, Nino!" Marinette smiled and wrapped her hands around the mug, repressing a satisfied whimper as the warmth of the drink seeped into her freezing hands. "This is exactly what I needed…"

Alya took a long sip of hers then placed the mug down with a _clink_ and a loud sigh. "Ahh, delicious." She wiped a smear of cream from her lips then glanced down at Nino's cup.

"Don't even think about it," he said. "I got cinnamon too. You've converted me."

"Aww... " Alya mock-pouted.

"It must be true love!" Marinette giggled. "What flavour did you get, Adrien?"

"I just got plain," he replied. "I don't really like the flavoured ones…"

Marinette took a quick sip of her drink. Hot chocolate and cool mint mixed and melted together on her tongue like the suspended chords Luka had showed her once.

Alya dug a little package out of her bag and presented it to Adrien with a grin. "Better late than never."

"Thanks, Alya! I've got gifts for you guys too, hang on…" He grabbed his satchel from the ground and flipped it open then extracted three little parcels wrapped in green paper. "I didn't have a lot of time to go shopping, but I hope you like them."

"Thanks, dude!" Nino grinned. He tossed a squashy package to Adrien before grabbing his and tearing into it with fervour. Marinette pulled out her present for Adrien and checked the wrapping once more. Matte, red paper and gold ribbon, expertly tied, and little Christmas trees in gold ink printed with a handmade stamp. She passed it to Adrien, then picked up his gift for her.

A small box—jewellery, perhaps? Inside, a fine, gold chain with a ladybug-shaped pendant in red and black enamel. Beneath it was a small card: 'A ladybug for our everyday ladybug.'

"Thanks, Adrien. You're beautiful—I mean it's beautiful. I mean, not that you're not but, uh, um…"

Adrien chuckled as he opened his present. "You're welcome, Marinette… Oh, wow! Did you make this?"

It was a beanie, nearly identical to Luka's bar the colour—powder blue instead of turquoise—and it was plain. She had wanted to embroider something around the edge, but she realised when she was sketching the design that she had no idea what he would like. Passion fruits? Fencing sabres?

Before, she'd reconciled her lack of knowledge about his hobbies and interests with the fact his father never gave him time to have hobbies or interests. But she'd realised, as she wrapped the beanie, it was because she'd never asked.

It had been easy to design Luka's.

Marinette's mouth pulled into a grin so wide her cheeks hurt. "Yeah, I hope it fits you okay."

Adrien placed it on his head, adjusting it to sit at a slightly jaunty angle, then smiled. "How does it look?"

It looked good. Perfect, even. From the pale blue against his golden hair to the easy, close-mouthed smile. Perfect.

Why didn't it feel perfect?

"Lookin' good, dude!" Nino laughed, giving a thumbs up. "Is that a Marinette special?"

As Adrien replied to Nino, Marinette felt someone kick her beneath the table. She looked at Alya, who held up her phone. Marinette slid her own from her bag and found a few new messages in the group chat she had with the girls.

**Alya: u ready for operation christmas kiss?**

**Alix: i thought we called it operation seasonal smooch**

**Rose: Both names r super cute! :) ^.^**

**Alix: wat about festive fondle?**

**Mylène: Nooo**  
**Mylène: that's awful**  
**Mylène: What about christmas cuddle?**

As she read through, more messages popped up, accompanied by a series of buzzing.

**Alya: r u in place? were about to start**

**Rose: were on the bridge! :D  
** **Rose: and i have the glitter! :3**

**Mylène: i'm by the car!**

**Alix: hurry up**  
**Alix: ppl keep tryin to give me money  
** **Alix: this costume is stupid**

**Rose: I think u look super cute! ^.^**

**Alix: i have a beard!  
** **Alix: why cant juleka do this?**

**Rose: she said shes busy :(**

Because of course the plan couldn't just be 'Marinette gives Adrien a present without freaking out.' Alya had to come up with something ridiculously convoluted, with sneaking around and glitter and _beards._ It hadn't ever worked in the past, and no doubt today's attempt would similarly fail.

And yet, she'd agreed. _Why_ had she done that?

There was, she supposed, still time to back out. Just one message. 'I'm not feeling too well, guys. Maybe another time.' But she couldn't move her fingers. Her body was no longer hers to control. She could only watch as Alya downed the rest of her hot chocolate and checked her phone.

"Oh no! My parents want me back to watch the twins. Bummer." She sighed melodramatically. "I guess I'd better go…"

"Ah, that sucks," Nino began, but was swiftly silenced by Alya's glare. "Uh, I mean, I'll come with you." He drained his cup and wiped his mouth then looked at Adrien apologetically. "Sorry, dude—"

"But Marinette can stay with him!" Alya butted in, her smile too wide. "You two have fun! Come on, Nino."

Alya pulled Nino up from the sofa, dragged him away from the table, and they were gone. Within seconds, another message lit up Marinette's phone.

**Alya: operation christmas kiss is a go!**

Marinette remembered the plan. It replayed in her mind, fuzzy and soulless like a pull-string toy's tired speaker. Finish the hot chocolate quickly and propose a walk. Adrien will say his bodyguard is waiting to pick him up, but Mylène will remove that obstacle by leading his bodyguard away from the car park to rescue a hypothetical kitten from a tree.

Marinette will suggest a walk along the _Pont des Arts, _where Alix will be waiting dressed as Père Noёl with a sprig of mistletoe. Then, as they look at the view over the Seine, Alix will dangle the mistletoe over them, and as they kiss, Rose will run by with a handful of glitter and throw it at them like non-degradable, plastic snow.

Marinette's hands brought the mug to her lips, tilted the hot chocolate into her mouth. Her throat swallowed, no longer tasting the peppermint chord. It was almost a surprise when the mug was empty and back on its saucer, and Adrien had also finished, and she was being pulled to her feet like a puppet on a string, following him out the door.

Adrien didn't notice Mylène peek around a corner and give a thumbs up, but Marinette did and her hand automatically rose to return it. As they stood on the street, wondering where Adrien's bodyguard was, Marinette's phone buzzed a few times. She imagined it was Alya, asking her why she wasn't speaking, and clenched her fist.

'_Let's take a walk along the _Pont des Arts!' The words buzzed in her mouth and throat, like someone had pulled the string in her back, but her stubborn lips wouldn't part to sound them. Adrien pulled out his phone, said something about calling Gorilla to see where he was, and another set of frenzied words tried to force their way out of Marinette's mouth, pushing and shoving against her tongue and teeth until finally they broke through. Garbled as ever.

"_Pont des Arts! _You! With me? To, walk, please?"

Adrien blinked, a little baffled. She'd seen that face so many times it may as well have been printed on her retinas. Then he smiled and slipped his phone back into his pocket. "I guess I could take a little walk," he said. And off they went, Adrien ahead, Marinette's body following. A puppet. Marionette. Steel strings.

Her phone buzzed again. This time she looked at it.

**Luka: You're in luck! My strings just broke! You said you wanted them right?**   
** L: Not sure what you're going to make out of guitar strings but knowing you it'll be really cool**   
** L: Maybe not the A string. It's a traitor. It snapped and nearly took my eye out.**   
** L: Apparently they were my last strings too. Gotta run to the shop and get more before it closes D: If you're free in about 20 mins you could come round and get these old strings? I'm worried I'll lose them otherwise**

Marinette stopped. Something pulled at her legs, willing them to keep walking, keep following Adrien, but she dug her heels into the ground.

**M: is your eye okay? you might need an eyepatch. then youll be like a real pirate!**

**L: Haha true  
L: You know why pirates are called pirates?**

Adrien turned to look at her; the strings tugged harder on her legs, her chest, her head, but she tugged harder against them.

**M: no**

**L: They just ARRRR**

"Marinette?" Adrien asked. "Is something wrong?"

Marinette looked at her phone, at Adrien, at her phone again, then shook her head. "No. I just...I have to do something."

The string broke. The world snapped into focus, and Marinette relished the feel of her toes curling in her boots, her scarf brushing her jaw, the lingering taste of peppermint behind her teeth.

"Oh. Okay, no problem." He smiled. "We can go look at the bridge next time. Maybe Alya and Nino will be able to stay too."

"Yeah," she said, and the usual swell of disappointment didn't come. And when he walked past her, back towards the car park, nothing tried to pull her after him. "I have to go. I hope you find Gorilla."

"He's pretty hard to miss," Adrien replied with his soft laugh. "See you later, Marinette."

He was gone.

Marinette's phone buzzed: a disgruntled message from Alix about her beard being itchy.

**M: plans off**

She muted the group chat and closed it, then pulled up Luka's messaging thread.

**M: Whats your favourite hot chocolate flavour?**

**L: My favourite flavour? Why?**

**M: Like mint or cinnamon or orange or plain?**

**L: Hmm tricky one**  
**L: If I had to choose I guess mint**  
**L: It's my favourite ice cream flavour soooo**

**M: Mine too!**

She thought about Alya and Nino and their shared love of cinnamon, and nearly typed, 'It must be true love!' but she stopped herself. It was only hot chocolate. Love was grand, true love grander. It was picnics by candlelight and flowers on pillows and kisses under the moon.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was as simple as hot chocolate.

Marinette stuffed her phone in her bag, began running, boots thumping on the pavement like a kick drum. She ducked into an alley, opened her purse, grinned at Tikki's confused face.

"Come on," she said. "We've got a music shop to get to. Spots On!"

Moments later, Ladybug leapt from the top of the alley, onto the rooftops. The winter sun broke through the clouds; her suit gleamed red as a holly berry peeping through the snow. She unhooked her yo-yo, felt the string—_her_ string—between her fingers, and threw it.


	9. Day Nine: Needle and Thread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Needle and thread, in which Marinette does some sewing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Righto, day nine. I'm pretty pleased with the ending of this one, but I would have liked more time to faff around with the middle. Never mind. 
> 
> Thank you again for all of your support. I'm so pleased people picked up on my attempts to be clever in regards to writing style and language :D

**Day Nine: Needle and Thread**

With a new packet of strings tucked safely in his pocket, Luka checked his phone again as he stepped out of the shop. He was still puzzling over Marinette's last few texts.

_ **Whats your favourite hot chocolate flavour?** _

_ **Like mint or cinnamon or orange or plain?** _

_ **Mine too!** _

He'd texted back, asking why she wanted to know, but she hadn't replied. There was a small part of him that hoped maybe it was a way of asking him out for a hot drink, but it was a rather roundabout way of doing it even by Marinette's standards. So, he pushed that part of him down, muted it. Besides, he was hoping she would drop by at some point to grab those guitar strings. He remembered her curiosity about what they were made of, and what he did with them when he changed them.

"_Throw them away, usually."_

"_Oh. Could, uh, could I have one or two? I have an idea for something I want to create…"_

"_Sure. I'll let you know when these go. Shouldn't be long; I've had them for months now."_

No new messages since her hot chocolate question. He thought about dropping another text—she often forgot to reply and frequently needed prodding—but suddenly a blur of red swung past him, twisted in midair, and smacked into a brick wall. Ladybug tumbled to the ground, rubbing her head.

"Oww," she muttered, dazed.

"Ladybug!" Luka hurried to offer her a hand up, which she accepted immediately. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah!" She blinked twice, looked down as though checking her outfit, then at her hand still holding is and quickly withdrew. "I just, mistimed that, haha…"

"Is there an akuma?" he asked, glancing around quickly for signs of trouble. But there was no thumping or crashing, no giant robots or enslaved minions or questionably-dressed villains.

Ladybug shook her head rapidly. "No no no! I was just out, uh, patrolling. You know, checking for trouble but as everything's fine here I'll just be going!" She grinned, pulling her mouth a little too wide—there was something familiar about it but when he tried to place it he only came up with fog, like a bass-line from a forgotten song.

Before he could think of a response, or even say goodbye, Ladybug flicked her yo-yo and disappeared down a narrow side-street. Strange; Ladybug seemed a lot flightier than she had in the past. With both Anarka and Bob Roth's akumatisations she was so collected and mature. But today…

Another twang of familiarity, but Luka couldn't force his mind to focus on it. Even if he could, he didn't have time to linger on it as moments later he spotted Marinette running down the road, waving to him.

"Luka!" she called. "I just saw Ladybug...there isn't an akum—WAH!" She slipped on the icy pavements and landed heavily on the ground.

With something akin to déjà vu, Luka sprinted over and offered her his hand. "Are you okay, Marinette? That looked like a nasty fall…"

"I'm fine." She managed a smile and a laugh as she scrambled to her feet, leaning heavily on his hand. "More slippery than I thought."

"Yeah, I slipped on the way down here." He tugged on his sleeve and showed her the large hole in both his hoodie and jumper at the elbow. "Somehow tore right through my favourite hoodie."

Marinette traced the hole with her fingers; the feel of her cold skin against his nearly made him shiver. "If you like, I can try and fix it. I just need some needle and thread."

"You don't have to—"

"Luka!" she chastised. "It's cold! You might get frostbite on your elbow and have to have it amputated!"

"...I might get my elbow amputated?" he repeated, smothering his grin.

"Yeah, and then how will you play guitar?" she pointed out, her serious mouth clashed with her amused eyes.

Luka sighed. "Alright, you can fix my clothes. In return I'll give you my old guitar strings."

"You were going to give them to me anyway."

"Maybe I changed my mind. I am a pirate after all," he replied winking.

Marinette snorted and rolled her eyes. "Pirates can't wink," she said. "They don't have enough eyes."

They began the ten minute walk back to the houseboat. Luka asked about her hot chocolate texts, but Marinette turned her flushing face away and merely waved them off as a random question she had thought of.

Soon enough they were in Luka's room, Marinette laughing as he tried to subtly tidy up by kicking clothes under his bed and pull his duvet a little straighter. Chaos may reign supreme on the deck, and Luka by no means cared for keeping his room immaculate, but that didn't mean he wanted Marinette to see quite how messy he could let it become.

But Marinette simply slipped off her coat—unsurprising as it was still damp from when she'd slipped over—and threw herself on his bed to wrap his blanket around her.

"Careful," Luka warned. "I left that guitar string somewhere on my bed. You know, the one that nearly blinded me…"

Marinette patted the bed around her then pulled out a steel string from the folds. She placed it on the other side of the bed, out of the way, and smiled. "If you give me your clothes then I can get on with fixing them while you change your strings."

"Alright," he said, grabbing another jumper from a pile on the floor. She was still smiling at him, so he quietly coughed and arched his eyebrows. It wasn't that he particularly minded changing his top in front of her, but…

Predictably, as soon as Marinette realised what was going on, she squeaked, blushing heavily, and ducked beneath the blanket. Luka chuckled and quickly changed, tugging off his hoodie and jumper and slipping on the other one. Then, bundling up the clothes, he called Marinette's name. As soon as she emerged, he threw the clothes at her still-red face.

Bullseye. She blinked and pouted. "Hey!"

"Sorry." Luka laughed. "I'll go get that needle and thread. I'm sure we've got a sewing kit around here somewhere… I'll be right back."

* * *

Marinette waited until Luka had left the room before pressing her burning face into his jumper and moaning quietly. Silly Marinette with her silly brain, not thinking as usual. She shook her head to dislodge the embarrassment and turned her attention to Luka's clothes. The hole in the jumper was more of a cut, easy enough to sew back together. But the hoodie sported a larger hole, one that would need a patch to avoid an obvious mark. She'd have to ask Luka if he had any spare fabric she could use, or else she'd have to take it home and repair it there—she was sure she had some old scraps that would blend well.

As she thumbed the ripped clothes, she noticed Tikki emerge from the coat, where she had been hiding in one of the pockets, and land on her shoulder. "Why didn't you go through with the plan, Marinette?"

Marinette sighed and shrugged. "I just...I couldn't, Tikki. It didn't feel right. I didn't feel like it was me, like they were _my_ feelings anymore."

"Do you still love Adrien?"

Marinette wanted to say yes. She wanted to hold on to what was, what felt like it had always been. But she couldn't; the word lodged in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers tightened around a fistful of fabric.

"No," she whispered.

Something ripped inside her. Like a stone sewn into her heart had been torn out, leaving her feeling light. Too light, because now there was a hole in her chest, an emptiness. As though part of her very identity had been in that stone.

Tikki, receptive as ever, patted her cheek. "Does that mean you love Luka?"

"L-love? L-Luka?"

She liked him, certainly. Who wouldn't? He was handsome, kind, funny, selfless… But did she love him?

She thought she'd loved Adrien, but now she wasn't so sure. She didn't know what love even was anymore.

"How am I supposed to know, Tikki?"

"You left Adrien, who you've been pursuing for over two years now, and ran straight to Luka. Isn't that love?"

Marinette didn't know. But her mind felt too clogged up with emotions to think, and the hole in her heart hurt, so she pulled out her phone to distract herself. Unsurprisingly, there was a long list of messages from the group chat, and it was still growing.

**Alya: wat do u mean plans off?**

**Alya: everyones in place**   
** Alya: Marinetteeeee! u coward!**

**Rose: oh no! D: r u ok marinette?**

**Mylène: should i keep distracting gorilla?**

**Alya: come on marinette**   
** Alya: when will u have anothr chance like this?!**   
** Alya: mari!**   
** Alya: i burnt my tongue downing that coco**

**Alix: wait wait wait**   
** Alix: so im waring this stupd costume for nothing!**

**Rose: i still think you look cute alix :)**

**Alix: why couldnt juleka be here again?**   
** Alix: if the plans off im going home**   
** Alix: its freezing**

**Mylène: adrien found us!**   
** Mylène: hes looking for the kitten too!**   
** Mylène: wat do i do!?**

**Alix: run!**   
** Alix: lol**

**Alya: marinette! i know ur reading these!**   
** Alya: where r u?**   
** Alya: y did u bail?**

Marinette switched off her phone and tucked it in her bag. She'd have to tell them sooner or later. Tell them what though? That she'd bailed on Adrien because she'd fallen out of love with him? Or because she'd fallen for Luka? Or both?

She groaned and pressed her hands to the side of her head. "Ughhh, why is this so hard?"

But Tikki didn't reply; Tikki was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she heard a mumble from the doorway.

"Marinette?"

It was Juleka, bundled up in black jeans and a too-big jumper, her visible eye wide and confused.

"Hi, Juleka." Marinette waved, forced a smile.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm, uh…I'm—oh!" She held up the jumper, using her fingers to show the rip. "I'm fixing a rip in Luka's jumper!"

Juleka watched her silently, eye as intense and unblinking as an owl. Then she mumbled something barely legible, but Marinette was able to pick out a few words. 'Adrien', 'cafe','operation'.

Marinette got the gist. "I couldn't do it," she said. "It wasn't right."

Juleka flashed her a quick smile—a _relieved_ smile? Then she glanced at something outside the room, waved, and disappeared. Moments later, Luka returned with a small box.

"Hey, found the sewing kit," he said, placing the box on the bed. "I hope it has everything you need...are you okay?"

"Huh?"

"You seem a little...sad," he said. "No, melancholy, or…" He pressed his lips together, gaze flickering to the guitar. "I can't think of the word."

"I know what you mean," Marinette replied. "And I'm fine. Just, uh, I lost something today. But I think I'm better off without it."

He nodded, but his mouth dipped into a slight frown. "If you're sure you're okay."

"I am. Thank you."

"Good."

He dropped into the chair by his desk and opened up a little laptop. After plugging in a few wires and flicking some switches, music began blaring from the twin speakers set up on each end. Not Jagged Stone. Less rocky, more intricate guitar work, like a complicated needle pattern. Luka dropped the volume, pressed a few keys on his laptop, and the music changed. Still guitar but softer, slower.

"I usually play all the songs I have on my laptop on a random loop," he said. "Hard rock to Scottish folk. Sometimes hearing two different styles next to each other can inspire something new. Let me know if you don't like something and I'll skip it."

They both fell silent to concentrate on their work. As Luka pulled his guitar onto his lap and began carefully undoing the remaining strings, Marinette rifled through the sewing box for a needle and the correct colour thread. Unlike the rest of the boat, the sewing box was organised, as though it had never been used. Which, she supposed, may well have been the case.

As she predicted, the jumper was easy to repair. A few stitches to hold it together, then finer needle work to secure and hide the rip. Fortunately, she found a spool of thread in nearly the same colour as the jumper. By the time she had finished, Luka was done restringing his guitar and now quietly played it alongside the music pouring from his speakers. He stopped, however, when he noticed her holding up the jumper.

"That was quick," he remarked.

"It's only a small rip," she returned. "Have a look. Is it alright?"

Although she held the jumper out for him to take, he instead moved to sit on the bed. "Wow. That's amazing. You can hardly see it…"

She flushed with pleasure as he admired her handiwork. After a few seconds, he folded the jumper—sloppily—and threw it at his chair.

"I'm having a little trouble with the hoodie," Marinette admitted. "The rip's a lot bigger and more frayed, so I can't sew it together so easily. I could put in a patch but I'll need some fabric. If you like I can take it home to do it…"

"Does it matter what kind of fabric?" he asked. "I know I've got some old clothes around here that you could use." He ducked out of sight to search under his bed, and eventually emerged with a pull-out storage box. Inside, amongst cords and music books, were a few items of clothing which he grabbed and dumped on the mattress. "Have a look. Actually, feel free to take some of it home if you like. I was going to take this all to a charity shop but never got around to it."

As she pulled the clothes nearer to furtle through, Luka clambered next to her and nudged her shoulder.

"Oi, let me in."

"What?"

"It's cold," he said, nudging her again. "You're hogging the blanket."

Marinette glared at him, but nonetheless she uncurled the blanket and threw part of it over him too and tried not to flush when he scooted slightly closer. Just close enough to feel his body heat and smell his deodorant. She swallowed thickly and concentrated on the job at hand.

She discarded a few articles straight away for being white, which wouldn't look right against the grey-blue hoodie. One was a close match colour-wise, but was just a little too pale. She ummed over a red shirt, but ultimately settled on a pair of joggers in medium grey. Different enough to contrast against the hoodie, but it still toned well.

"Could you pass me the—oh." Luka was already holding out the pair of scissors from the sewing kit. "Thanks."

He watched her as she worked. Even simple tasks like cutting a square of grey fabric from the joggers and snipping the frayed ends in the sleeve's rip he observed intently. She'd half-sewn the makeshift patch on when he spoke.

"How, uh, how do you do that?" he asked, a little flustered. Embarrassed, perhaps?

"How do I sew?" she clarified, pulling the needle to tighten the latest stitch.

"I'm pretty useless with this sort of stuff, but I should probably at least try fixing things when they tear instead of…"

"Throwing them in the Seine?" Marinette finished innocently. Luka replied with a mock-glower, making her giggle. "It's pretty easy. Here, I'll show you…"

First, she slowly, carefully, performed a simple stitch. Then, with the needle positioned between his fingers, she guided him in the same stitch. She didn't think about how close he was, how big his hands were beneath hers, the way his breath gently blew on his ear when he leaned closer for a better look.

"And there, see." Letting go of his hand, with an odd mixture of relief and loss, she pulled at the sleeve to showcase the strength of the patch. "Fixed."

"Thanks Marinette." He smiled, running a finger across the stitches. "You can tell where I did it. It's much messier than yours."

"That's because you're not as experienced as me," she said. "If you keep at it you'll be doing perfect stitches in no time! Then you can move onto fancier stuff like embroidery."

"Can you show me that too?" he asked. "I really liked the pattern you did on my hat; I wouldn't have had the first idea of how to go about it."

"I guess. Okay, um…" She looked back at the patch on the sleeve. It was functional, yes, but a little boring, a little rough. None of her usual Marinette flair. "I'll add some decoration to this patch if that's okay with you. What pattern would you like?"

Luka leaned back against the wall, his head thudding lightly on the plasterboard. His mouth was screwed to one side as he thought, and after a moment he flushed slightly. "Cherry blossoms," he said.

"Cherry blossoms?"

His smile pushed into his pink-dusted cheeks. "Yeah, cherry blossoms."

She knew she could easily embroider cherry blossoms because that's what she'd sewn onto her dress for the dance, and onto his shirt. And she knew that he knew she could do it. Was that why he picked them? Or—she looked again at his faint blush—did he just really like cherry blossoms?

"Sure," she said, rooting in the sewing box for new thread. Pale pink, cerise, black. She didn't let him touch this one because embroidery was difficult for a beginner, but he didn't mind. He seemed to enjoy just watching, leaning close, his face next to hers as she worked.

Embroidery had always been time-consuming, and after a while Luka volunteered to get some refreshments. Tea for her, in a mug with a cat in front of the moon, and hot blackcurrant squash for him.

She wrinkled her nose when she took an experimental sip of his drink. "It tastes like heated up medicine."

"We didn't have squash a lot when I was a kid," he said, rubbing the side of his mug where it was chipped, marring what looked like a flag with a blue cross. "It was always a special treat when we did, though, so if it was too cold for a chilled drink I used to heat it up."

"That's kind of sweet."

"I also used to put extra sugar in it."

"And that's disgusting."

Luka—mid-sip—choked on a laugh. "Yeah. Ma used to say the same thing... How's your embroidery going?"

"It's okay…" Marinette took a long sip of her tea then passed it back to Luka so he could put it on the desk. "I'm not used to sewing on two different materials at the same time, so it might be a little awkward in places…"

"I'm sure it'll be great."

"And if it's not, you can always throw it in the Seine," she teased.

She knew by the way his shoulders jolted and his mouth clamped shut that he was trying not to laugh. "If you're not careful I'll throw you in the Seine."

Finally, with the light outside the window beginning to darken, Marinette deemed the hoodie finished. She glanced at the jumper, still folded on top of the chair, then back at the hoodie's sleeve.

The first fix was neater. Barely noticeable unless under scrutiny. Back to how it was, how it had always been, how it always would be. But the second… The patch stood out, changed the hoodie completely. It wasn't trying to be the same as it was, but had transformed into something new. The scar was obvious, not forgotten or brushed aside, but one with the rest of the piece.

Marinette laid the hoodie out before them. The network of black branches curled around the edge of the patch, hiding the stitches, dotted with delicate pink buds which continued into the patch, caught by the wind. They echoed the night sky, each blossom a star. _Andromeda. Lyra. Cassiopeia._

Marinette smiled as Luka raved about the pattern, blushed when he called her amazing, extraordinary, supremely talented. Her hand found her chest, found her heart beating beneath. The hole left by Adrien wasn't gone, never gone. Just patched over with cherry blossoms and stars.


	10. Day Ten: Baked Goods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baked goods, in which Marinette discovers Luka's Scottish roots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready, because here's another long'un. Maybe a little melodramatic at the beginning but whatever. I've literally only just finished writing it, so sorry if it's a bit rough in places.
> 
> Thank you for all of your continued support. I may not reply to reviews because...I suck. But I love waking up in the morning to read all of your lovely comments and thoughts.
> 
> The song mentioned at the end is one of my personal favourites: Queen of Argyll by Silly Wizard. It's a cracking tune; go check it!

**Day Ten: Baked Goods**

The weekend saw Marinette confined to her bed with a rather stuffy cold, owing to the fact she'd slipped on the icy gangplank when disembarking the _Liberty _and fallen into the river. Fortunately, Luka had been quick to fish her out and give her a change of clothes before walking her home. But it wasn't enough, and an hour after stepping out of her warm shower she was sneezing up a storm. A shivery, snotty storm.

She was so ill that she refused to have anyone come to her room for fear of infecting them. When Alya tried phoning her to ask what on earth had gone on that day, Marinette rejected the call, instead sending a quick text about her illness and that she'd explain everything when the new school term started on Monday.

She'd also messaged the girls' group chat to confirm she was okay and that there was a reason she'd called the plan off, and that she'd tell them more later when she was less sick.

Luckily, by Monday morning, her cold had all but cleared. Her throat was still a bit scratchy and she suffered the odd sneeze, but she was well enough for school. Thanks to her mother's prompting, Marinette managed to make it to class early for once. She found Alya, Alix and Juleka loitering on the front steps with—Marinette paused to groan—Lila.

Nonetheless, she approached the group with as cheerful a wave as she could muster. "Hi, guys…"

"Oh, Marinette!" Lila simpered, tossing her hair as she turned to smile a little _too_ sweetly. "I haven't seen you since the dance! It's such a shame what happened to your dress! I would have stayed to make sure you were okay but I had to go to Italy the next day and then when I was there mamma had an emergency with the English ambassador which I managed to solve but I ended up breaking my leg when I fell out the window saving the ambassador's baby."

Lila's stories were growing more ridiculous by the day, but that didn't stop the others from gasping and asking for more details, which Lila happily provided. Marinette frowned and folded her arms, digging her fingernails so hard into her coat sleeves that she was sure the material would rip under the pressure.

Then something pressed lightly against her stomach. Tikki reminding her to stay calm. Marinette breathed in through her nose for eight counts, held for eight, out for eight. Repeat.

"Can your dress be salvaged?" Lila asked, smiling at Marinette again, but her eyes betrayed a sly gleam.

Breathe in, hold, breathe out.

Try to smile.

"It doesn't look like it," Marinette replied. Her smile quivered. "But that's okay. I can just make a new one."

"If you like, I can help you," Lila offered. "I can help you make it even better with those advanced techniques I told you about!"

Marinette's heart thumped when Alya, Alix and Juleka turned to stare at her expectantly, waiting for her to fall to her knees in graciousness and thank the heavens for sending this angel of sewing to teach her.

Unfortunately for them, Marinette had no intention of thanking anyone for anything, so she coolly dropped her hands to her hips and raised an eyebrow. "And what techniques would they be, Lila?"

"Marinette!" Alya snapped. "Can't you just be grateful that Lila's offering to help you? What's your issue with her?"

They were glaring again. How was it their attitudes towards her could change so quickly at the mere presence of Lila? Maybe she was a permanent akuma with brain-cell destroying powers? What to do? Stand back, become the doormat they expected of her? Or stand tall and defend her pursuit for truth. The choice sounded obvious in her mind, but…

"It's okay, Alya." Lila giggled and waved her hand. "Marinette's obviously just having a bad day. You know, after being ill and _finally_ giving up on Adrien to start stalking that poor Luka boy."

The change was instantaneous. Alya, Alix and Juleka blinked, their eyes blew wide, their mouths dropped.

"Wait, you've dropped Adrien for Luka?" Alya repeated incredulously. "Since when?"

Lila gasped—it sounded fake, not that anyone noticed but Marinette. "Oh! I didn't realise you didn't know, Alya! Unless Marinette hasn't given up on Adrien yet. Maybe this is another of your plans? What do you call them, operations?" She giggled again; her eyes were hot ice. "You're using Luka to get Adrien jealous! I mean, I don't approve of your methods, Marinette… I'm worried you'll end up hurting both of them."

"What!" Marinette yelped, her face burning cold. "I'm not—I would never—"

"What the hell, Marinette?" Alya growled. "You can't just use Luka like that! We would have helped you come up with another plan if you didn't like the other one."

"Come on, Marinette." Alix shook her head. "Not cool."

"Are you just using my brother?" Juleka demanded, surprising them all with how loud, how clear, her voice was. "How could you?"

"But I didn't—" Marinette tried again. Her eyes pricked; the wind made them sting. But the words got jumped up in her gaping mouth.

"Oh no! I'm sorry, I didn't realise Marinette hadn't told you!" Lila gasped again, her fingers flying to her mouth. "I thought she told you guys everything! Especially you, Alya. Aren't you always there to help with her love life?"

"Don't you trust us?" Alix asked before throwing up her arms with a grunt. "Whatever, I'm going inside…"

"Good idea, Alix." Alya sent Marinette a hostile glare that cut right through her chest, through her heart, out the other side like a spear. "I can't believe you'd go so low, Marinette. Don't bother sitting with me in class today."

Marinette's knees shook. Her heart crumbled like chalk. "Alya—" she whispered, but the girl had already turned away, arm hooked through Lila's, to follow Alix inside. Then Juleka.

The disgusted sneer she received turned her insides into the cold slush still lining the pavements.

With the girls gone, Marinette took off running. Down the stairs, around the school, to the little nook tucked behind the bikeshed, where she threw herself to the ground and caught her tears in her coat sleeve.

"Marinette?" The voice came from her coat pocket. "Are you okay?"

All she could do was shake her head, press her face harder into her arms, so hard she thought she might press herself out of existence.

"Will this help?"

She sniffed loudly, wiped her nose on her sleeve, and looked up. Tikki was holding up a cookie, her eyes large and sad. Marinette managed a watery smile.

"Thanks, Tikki, but I'm okay. You might need it later."

"If you're sure…" Tikki floated down to return the cookie from wherever she'd secreted her stash then came back up to sit on Marinette's shoulder. "You have to be strong, Marinette. We can't risk Hawkmoth akumatising you."

Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

"Okay," Marinette murmured. "I'm fine. It won't get to me. It can't get to me."

Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out.

* * *

By the time Marinette managed to move, sure she had calmed down enough to not burst into tears in class, sure akumas would no longer be after her, she was already late. She sprinted into the class, yelping a garbled apology to the teacher as she passed her, and nearly fell over when she saw Lila sitting proud in _her _seat.

"_Don't bother sitting with me in class today."_

Oh. Right. Marinette picked herself up, ignoring the way her skin prickled under the class's stares, and made her way to the spare seat at the back. Alone again.

At least no one could glare at her here.

* * *

At lunch, Marinette went home. The lunch rush had just begun for the bakery, but Sabine still managed to spot her on the shop floor and call her over.

"Are you alright?" she asked between customers. "You look deflated."

"I, uh, yeah," she mumbled. "Just...still feeling a little sick."

"Oh dear. Do you want to call in sick for the afternoon?"

"I think that's probably best."

"Okay, you hurry upstairs. Get some rest. I've left your lunch in the fridge."

"Thanks, maman."

Marinette had a quiet lunch in her room with only Tikki for company. After eating her sandwich, she scrolled through her laptop for some decent music to play while she wallowed in her despair and disappointment. She hovered over one album in particular. Luka's Christmas present to her: a short playlist of instrumentals he'd recorded and edited himself. She remembered his nervous smile when he presented her with the memory stick.

"_It's not much, I'm afraid, but I remember you saying you found some of this soothing so I thought you'd like to have your own copy. If you need soothing and I can't be there to help you."_

Well, she certainly needed soothing now. She hadn't listened to the full playlist yet, but now was as good a time as any.

There were only six tracks. The first two she recognised immediately as pieces he'd played for her before, so much so that she found herself humming along as she doodled in her sketchbook. The third and fourth pieces were the soothing ones. Slow, gentle. A guitar's cry sweeping and gliding like a wandering feather.

The fifth, was more light-hearted. Drum beats, quick notes, major chords. Like a warm rain; distant thunder; the smell of grass and earth; running down a wet street with laughter tearing from grinning mouths. Marinette managed a smile, closed her eyes, tried to taste raindrops on her tongue.

But the sixth… Spring petals; pencil scratches; the wind sighing through a tree. Moonlight on the water; star-shine; a street lamp's halo. Pink crescendo-ed into red, faded to blue. The last lingering note was turquoise, glistening in the air like light caught on glass.

It was over too quickly.

Luka hadn't named his tracks. Not properly, at least. _The one with that cool guitar solo; Not sure what I was going for here but it's kinda fun; Trying to make a guitar sound like a violin is hard; Trying to make a guitar sound like a cello is harder; Dun dun dun daDUNDUNdaDUN._

_Played on heartstrings_

She put it on again and the music nearly made her forget everything that had gone wrong that morning.

Nearly.

Halfway through the song, her phone rang. It took Marinette a few moments to gather the courage to check who was calling, but to her relief it was Luka. She answered.

"Hey…"

"_Hey, sickie."_ She could hear his grin. "_How are you feeling?"_

"Um, oh, you know…"

"_What's wrong?"_

Marinette stared at the phone in shock. How had he known? "What do you mean?"

"_Your voice is a little empty,"_ he said. "_I thought something was wrong…"_

Trust Luka to pick up on her feelings from just her voice. She tried to smile; it felt foreign on her lips. "Have you talked to Juleka today?" she asked, because she had to know if Lila's lies had spread yet. _Of course_, she thought to herself, _no doubt they already have. Just as long as they haven't reached him…_

"_Not since this morning,"_ he replied. "_Why? Has something happened to her?"_

"No." _Unless you count being taken for a sucker by a sly, conniving_—

"_Do you want me to come by after school? You sound like you need cheering up…"_

Her smile turned a little genuine at his sweet offer. "No, that's okay. Your songs are cheering me up already. Besides—" she sighed— "I'm not going back to school today. Maman's phoning in sick for me."

"_Are you still sick?"_

"No. I just… I can't go back. Not after this morning."

"_What happened?" _he asked. Then, when she didn't answer, "_Marinette?"_

"I…" She squeezed her eyes shut; tears leaked out. "I'm sorry. I can't...I don't want to talk about it." _But if I don't, you'll hear the lie. Will you believe it?_

"_Hey, hey, Marinette. It's okay, you don't have to tell me. Do you want me to come by now?"_

"Don't you have school?"

"_Nah. Mostly free periods this afternoon. Well, apart from Music Theory. But who cares about that. You're far more important."_

"But Luka…"

"_I'm coming round, okay."_

"No! I...my parents think I'm sick and they don't let people see me when I'm sick. I'll come to you."

"_Oh, so when you're sick, your parents don't let you have visitors, but do let you out?" _he teased.

"No, but I can always sneak out."

"_Well." _Luka chuckled. "_Between you sneaking out and me ditching Music Theory, we make quite the rebellious pair."_

Marinette laughed wetly. "I'll meet you at yours."

"_I'll be ready with everything we'll need to cheer you up, m'kay?"_

"You'd better. I'll see you soon."

Marinette arranged a few pillows beneath her blanket to give the impression of a sleeping body, in case her parents stuck their heads in to check on her, then grabbed the clothes Luka had lent her before when she'd fallen in the Seine before climbing up to her balcony. "Tikki, Spots On."

* * *

Luka ended the call and sighed. He figured he had twenty minutes before Marinette arrived, maybe longer if she walked slow. Twenty minutes to stew over what could possibly have happened to upset her. It had to be more than just 'first day back blues'. Chloé, maybe. Or Lila. And why had she mentioned Juleka?

Well, whatever the reason, he was determined to cheer her up. And, with the boat vacant as Anarka was out working, he knew exactly what he wanted to do.

The kitchen, like the rest of the ship, looked as though a storm had blown through recently. So, his first task was washing up all of the dirty dishes and reorganising the cupboards. However, he had barely got half the kitchen done when he heard Marinette's footsteps just outside. Moments later she peered through the doorway and waved when she saw him.

"Do you want some help?" she asked, stepping inside and approaching the sink. "I thought your maman didn't approve of tidying up."

"Ma's not here right now," he replied, twitching his eyebrows up, pleased when he got a giggle.

"Such a rebel," she said, but her smile was forced and didn't reach her eyes. Her heart sounded not sad, but empty. "So, what do you have planned to cheer me up?"

"First—" he deposited the stack of bowls he was holding on the counter then opened his arms out to her— "I'm going to give you hug."

She stared at him, as if in a trance, and for a horrible moment he thought she was going to reject him. But then her smile warmed her eyes and she fell forward into his chest. She didn't hug him back as such, but instead tucked her arms between his body and hers, hands gently clutching the front of his shirt.

Marinette sighed; her body slumped in his arms, and it took all of his willpower not to press his face into her hair. Instead he rested chin on top of her head and began to sway slightly.

"Is this helping?" he murmured.

"Yeah," she mumbled. "Thank you."

"Good. Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

She didn't say anything, just shook her head.

He held her for a while longer, delicately sliding his fingers across her back like a pick across a guitar, until she sniffed loudly and pulled away slightly. Her cheeks glimmered softly beneath raw eyes. But she smiled, and her hands were still resting on his chest, and her face was so _close _to his…

Luka coughed quietly and stepped backwards lest she feel the way his heart suddenly sped up and _crescendo-ed_. "Sorry, it's still a bit of a mess in here," he said awkwardly, turning away to survey the kitchen. Long and narrow, freshly-cleaned dishes still trailing soap on the counter, an assortment of bowls and utensils lining the surfaces. "I thought I had more time...how did you get here so fast anyway?"

Marinette blinked. Then again. Then she paled slightly and looked away. "Uhh…" she said eloquently. "I...ran?"

He smirked as he began grabbing things to put away. "That eager to see me, huh?"

"I always like seeing you," she said, so matter-of-factly that he nearly dropped a plate. "So, what are we going to do?"

"I thought we could make something I used to have as a kid," he replied, desperately fighting down the warmth on his cheeks and neck, wondering if she could hear his still-thumping heart.

"Not hot squash again…"

Luka laughed, opening the bottom cupboard to extract a few paper bags. "Not unless you want some."

"No way."

He grinned and set down flour, caster sugar, brown sugar, and oats on the counter. "Don't worry," he said. "This is a Scottish staple. Highland shortbread. Don't ask me how that makes it different from normal shortbread because I don't know."

"Okay," she said, picking up the oats with a curious frown. "Well, let's get started. What do we do first, Chef Luka?"

"First, Apprentice Marinette—" he grinned at her puff-cheeked pout— "we turn on the oven."

It had been years since he'd made shortbread. The last time was when he was eleven and his maternal grandparents had been visiting from Scotland. He was worried he wouldn't remember the recipe, but to his relief as soon as he opened the ingredients, releasing the pungent scent of sugar and oats into the small kitchen, and heard the hum of the oven, he knew he would be alright.

First, they measured their ingredients. 200g of flour, 125g of butter, 50g of sugar, 30g of oats. Then they creamed sugar and butter together, slowly at first to combine the two ingredients without sugar spilling out, until Marinette took charge of the bowl and began beating with a ferocious intensity.

Once the oats were mixed in, Marinette starting rubbing in the flour. "I'm not letting you touch it with those nails," she said, eyeing his black nail polish.

"Probably wise," he conceded then held up his left hand. "Some of it's already starting to flake…"

As she mixed, Luka pulled out his phone to play some music while they worked. Usually he'd go to his normal playlist of every song he owned, but today, this recipe, he picked a different playlist. Soon the high pitched blaring of bagpipes sounded around the room, causing Marinette to pause and give him a baffled look.

"What is this?"

"Art."

She snorted, shoved him lightly, and squeaked when he bumped her back. Once the dough was finished, Luka rolled it into a large sausage and, with a sharp knife, cut it into discs. Then he poured brown sugar into a plate and began rolling the edges of the dough slices in it. Just like grandma used to do.

"So," Marinette said, copying his actions. A baking tray was already set up next to them, lined with parchment. "Scottish shortbread? Bagpipes?"

"Yeah, didn't you know? I'm a quarter Scottish. Ma's only half-French."

"Oh, I had no idea."

"Not many people do," he said, shrugging. "It's not something I tell everyone. Not that I'm _not _proud of it. Just...it doesn't come up a lot."

"I get that," she replied. "I don't tell a lot of people I'm half-Chinese. But that's because most people can work that out from my surname…"

Soon enough, the biscuits were ready for the oven. As they baked, Luka and Marinette set about tidying up the mess they'd made. The playlist was more than just bagpipes, but a selection of songs by Scottish bands and artists from rock to folk to indie. Some obviously Scottish, some not. It was a private playlist really; he didn't play it for many people as all of the songs were in English. But January, set between New Year and Burns Night, always made him long for his Scottish roots. Deep as gorse, clear as mud.

A quiet humming pulled him from his thoughts.

Marinette smiled as she wiped down the surfaces. There were still sad lines on her face and in her heart, but they were softer now, fainter. And when he listened, her soul sang a fuller tune. Minor chords, but brighter.

The current song's chorus came around again, and Marinette's humming strengthened as Luka quietly sang the foreign words in as good as Scottish accent as he could.

"_The swan was in her movements, and the mornin' in her smile._  
All the roses in the garden, they bow and ask her pardon,  
For not one could match the beauty of the Queen of all Argyll."

The best thing about shortbread had always been the moment it came out of the oven, when the door was opened and unleashed such a great whoosh of heat that he was sure it would sear the skin from his skull. And then the sweet-scented blast of freshly baked biscuits, so strong he could already taste it melting on his tongue, already planning how he would steal an extra two or three to eat in his room before dinner.

But today, the best part was just before. The weak smell permeating the kitchen, the merry trill of a tenor banjo.

Marinette grabbing his hands, smile pushing into her cheeks, pulling him into a spirited dance of spins and sways and laughs to the beat of his thunderous heart.


	11. Day Eleven: Melody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melody, in which they eat shortbread

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, fresh off the press (as in I've literally just finished it with no time for a proper proofread, so apologies if it's awkward in places.)
> 
> Thank you so much for all of your support. There were some great comments on the last chapter; I especially enjoyed the ones about throwing Lila into the Seine. 
> 
> Someone also asked if the recipe I mentioned is a real one. Kinda? I don’t really make shortbread (a shame, because it’s delicious) so I looked up a few recipes and mixed them together somewhat. The quantities were from a Jamie Oliver recipe, the oats and brown sugar were things mentioned on blogs and that about making shortbread more Scottish. If anyone wants to give it a go then let me know how it goes! Maybe I’ll give it a go myself one day…

**Day Eleven: Melody**

With the shortbread safely loaded onto a wide, slightly chipped plate, Marinette and Luka decided to head down to his bedroom where they could eat the warm treats, wrapped in his blanket. However, when they stepped out of the kitchen they found Juleka loitering in the corridor.

"Hey, Luka," she said, but her mouth fell into a hard frown when her gaze fell to Marinette. "Oh."

Luka glanced behind at Marinette then Juleka; he didn't like the hostility coming from his sister, or the way Marinette seemed to curl in on herself. "Hey, Jule," he said. "Something up?"

Juleka's eyes flickered back to him and she shifted her feet uncomfortably. "I need to talk to you about something."

It was clearly important if the way she fidgeted with her bracelet was anything to go by. But Marinette seemed just a nervous, perhaps even slightly desperate.

"Juleka," she murmured. "Please, let me explain… What Lila said, it wasn't true."

Ah, that's what upset Marinette. "Come on, Jule. Whatever happened, I'm sure we can work it out."

But Juleka only frowned deeper then, flicking her hair over her shoulder, she flounced down the corridor and disappeared into her room. Luka sighed and shot Marinette an apologetic smile.

"She'll calm down soon enough," he said. "Come on, let's enjoy these before they get cold."

As soon as they reached his room, Marinette made herself a nest out of his bed sheets, her face tensed in frustration. Luka perched on the bed next to her and deposited the plate of biscuits on the flattest bit of mattress he could find. He grabbed two, still warm, and held one up to her mouth.

"Open wide, _lass_," he said, trying to force a Scottish accent onto French. "Ye'll feel better wit' a bit o' Scotland down ye."

Marinette let out a reluctant giggle. "What was that meant to be?" she asked then squeaked when he pushed the biscuit past her slightly-parted lips. With a glare she took the biscuit from his hand and took a proper bite. "Mmm, these are good…"

"Yeah," he agreed, taking a bite of his own. Warm shortbread, slightly caramelised sugar, oats...they tasted like childhood and childhood tears dried by a mother's thumb. "So, I know you don't want to talk about it, but…"

Marinette shoved the rest of her biscuit in her mouth and chewed slowly. Then, as she swallowed, her shoulders slumped and she sighed. "It's just Lila being…" She faltered, face screwing up as she searched for the right phrase. Then, like a clogged tap suddenly clearing, the words gushed from her. "Lila! She keeps coming up with all this nonsense and—and people just believe her! And then when she says lies about _me _and I get all _emotional _about it because of _course_ I do! So people think that _I'm_ the one lying and when I call her out about it she's so _calm_ and makes up more lies that of course _everyone_ just _believes_ like they're—they're sheep or something!"

Luka waited patiently for her to finish and passed her another biscuit, which she stuffed whole into her mouth. "Lila's the girl we saw at the dance, right? She said she'd made her dress too?"

By the way Marinette huffed and rolled her eyes, he figured that was another lie.

"What did she say this time?" he asked as she angrily munched the shortbread like her life was dependant on it. When she swallowed she huffed again.

"It's not what she said. I mean, it was because what she said was just _ugh._ But it was how Alya and Alix and Juleka all reacted! Like because Lila said just one thing I was suddenly this horrible person, and they didn't even give me a chance to explain anything!"

"Juleka?" he echoed. "Is that why you were so concerned about me talking to her? Was…" He frowned, remembering Juleka's words in the hallway. '_I need to talk to you about something.' _"Was it about me?"

Marinette stiffened then groaned and leaned sideways, head falling against his shoulder. Hoping it was a comforting gesture, he slid his arm behind her and rested his hand on her shoulder, holding her as close as he dared.

"It's okay if you don't want to tell me," he said. "I'm just worried about you. That if you don't let someone in then you'll be...I don't think I could bear it if you were."

"I'm so scared I will be," she whispered. "I get so _upset_ and _angry. _I'm terrified Hawkmoth is going to take advantage of it and I won't be able to fight back."

"Well, how about I show you some meditation techniques? Maybe it'll help you control your emotions a little more. At least, until you can get to a safe environment."

"You would do that for me?"

"Of course." He smiled, pulled her a little closer. "And if you find it doesn't work when you're next upset you can just call me. Even if it's three in the morning."

"I'm not going to call you at three in the morning, Luka."

"But if you need to...I'd rather be woken up and be able to help you than find out you needed me and I was asleep."

"Fine."

* * *

Meditation was unsurprisingly quite relaxing. He didn't play music, or count his breaths, or anything like that. Instead he just told her to find a comfortable but specific position to sit in, one that could be unique to meditation so that even the act of sitting would in itself become relaxing.

"Don't measure your breaths," he said quietly. He sat cross-legged beside her, hands on his knees, thumbs and forefingers pressed together. "Feel the air in your chest, keep breathing in until your lungs and full then slowly breathe out. Concentrate on the bed beneath you, your clothes against your skin."

She did as he said. Unable to think of another position, she merely copied his but let her hands dangle limply over her knees. She breathed in until her lungs were full, felt the cold air sting her throat, the weight in her chest when she exhaled again. The bed was soft beneath her, the fabric of her jeans warm against her wrists.

"Okay," she murmured. "Now what?"

"Well, that's a little more subjective," he replied. "My mind's always filled with music so I try to concentrate on my other senses. Try to see the patterns inside my eyelids or paint them with my own pattern. Anything that stops me trying to _listen. _We all need that break from whatever drives us, otherwise it becomes stale. I find the few minutes spent away from music helps me play better. I guess for you, you're so visual concentrate on a different sense? Listen to your heart beat or whatever other noises are around. Or smells or...I suppose taste would be pretty difficult."

Marinette laughed. "I can still taste that shortbread. I could concentrate on that?"

"If that helps."

They meditated for a while longer until the silence took form and wrapped around them like a shroud, and the sounds of the Seine were like weak lights struggling to permeate. Then she heard a crackling and opened her eyes to see Luka stretching his arms above his head.

"It's good to start with short sessions," he said, standing up. "Meditation can take it out of you if you go for too long. You need to build up a type of stamina, but it's really helpful."

She uncrossed her legs and stretched them before her, wincing her when knees clicked. "Thanks, Luka."

"And if you want a meditation buddy…"

"I'll be sure to call you at three in the morning," she replied, giggling when chuckled. Then her eyes fell on the guitar propped up in the corner of the room. Luka must have noticed her staring at it as he picked it up and grinned.

"Any requests?"

"Ummm…" She bit her lip. "You...you know the playlist you gave me?"

"Yeah."

"That last song. I really liked it. Could you play that?"

He looked surprised, but pleased. "The last one?"

"You called it _Played on heartstrings."_

"Ahh." He smiled, slightly flushed. "Fitting. It's your song, after all."

"My song?"

"Yeah." Luka rubbed the back of his head, averted his gaze as he sat down with the guitar gathered on his lap. He began plucking strings and turning the little pegs as he spoke. "Do you remember when we first met? You stumbled into my room and I played a little tune for you?"

"You said it was in my heart."

"Yeah. It's that. Well, it was. I've reworked it. Your heart's grown, so the song grew with you. I, um, I actually meant to put lyrics to it but…"

"Can I hear it now?"

"On one condition. You promise to tell someone about today. It doesn't have to be me, but someone. Don't keep it bottled up…"

"Okay," she muttered, defeated. He was right, she couldn't tell no one. That was the same as doing nothing, and doing nothing was letting Lila win. "I promise."

He smiled, relieved, and positioned the guitar in his hands, body cradled against his stomach, neck resting in his hand. And soon petals and starshine filled the room, sweeping and swirling like a summer breeze, keeping time with her own heart.

Then he began to hum. There was something oddly forlorn about it, something lost, like the wind over the sea.

As before, it was over too quickly. He gently set the guitar down. "Sorry, I'll finish the lyrics one day," he said. "Then I'll sing it to you as well."

"You don't have to. It's beautiful as it is."

"I'm glad you like it."

The light was shifting. Shadows stretched outside the window as the sunlight drained from the world. Marinette peered out through the glass at the orange glimmers on the water and the pink-smeared sky, vivid behind Paris' skyline. "Do you want to sit outside?" she asked. "It looks like a beautiful sunset."

"That sounds like a good idea," he replied. "Take the blanket and the biscuits. I'll go make us some hot chocolate, okay?"

"Shortbread? Hot chocolate? Live music?" Marinette laughed as she bundled up the blanket in her arms, careful not to let it trail on the floor lest she trip over it. "You're spoiling me. I won't want to leave."

"Would that be so bad?"

"Luka!"

Chuckling, he left the room. Marinette hurried after him with the plate balanced on the blanket, sticking her tongue out at him as she passed the kitchen, then headed up to the deck. It was messy as ever, but she found a nice spot looking over the western sky where she set up the blanket over two chairs. She then sat down in one of them, pulling the blanket up to her chin, and sighed, content.

If only she could do this every time Lila got to her.

She felt Tikki climb out of her purse and crawl up under the blanket and peer at her. "How are you feeling, Marinette?"

"A lot better. There's something about Luka that's just so...calming. You know? Like, when I'm with him...everything is just _right._"

Tikki giggled through a knowing grin, making Marinette blush at her own words.

But she couldn't deny it. Everything did feel right when she was with Luka. As much as her heart pounded and leapt whenever Adrien was around, here she felt like _herself. _And that herself was good enough. No need for elaborate plots just to talk to him. She only had to look at him and he already knew what she wanted to say.

Marinette grabbed a biscuit and gave it to the kwami, who disappeared back into the purse. Soon enough, Luka reemerged with two steaming mugs. "Sorry it's not mint-flavoured," he said, giving her one mug before awkwardly manoeuvring into the other chair.

"Never mind," she said, wrapping her fingers around the mug. "I'll take you out for a mint one another day."

"How could I say no?"

It was a different sort of silence that followed. Not like during meditation, where it wrapped so tightly it was nearly suffocating, but here it was more comfortable. Settled like water around their feet as the sky burned before them. Pink to orange, red bleeding through like a watercolour. She wondered what it sounded like to Luka, if anything.

"Earlier," she said before she could stop herself. "With Lila... she said, or implied, that I'm just using you to get Adrien jealous."

Luka took a long sip before replying. "Is that what you're doing?"

"No!" Marinette spluttered. "How could you—" she stopped when she realised he was laughing and pouted at him.

"Marinette," he said. "You are the most genuine person I know. Sometimes your emotions get the better of you, I won't pretend they don't. But I know you, and I know you would never do something like that. You're extraordinary, Marinette. Sincere as a melody."

_Clear as a music note…_

"Did...did you mean what you said?"

"Of course I mean it, Marinette. I know you'd never—"

"No, I mean—" she swallowed, shut her eyes. "After Silencer. When you said...about me…" She peeked open one eye, and nearly squeezed it shut again when she found Luka staring at her thoughtfully. Sadly, perhaps.

"Every word."

"Do...do you still mean it?"

"I do," he said. "Marinette, you're my melody."

In the clash of colours in the sky's fire, a moment of clarity like a water droplet.

She forced her eyes open, clutched her mug tighter in one hand and with the other reached for his. Their pinky fingers twined together. Her heart tried to march up her throat but she swallowed it down.

"Luka, you're my melody too."


	12. Day Twelve: Flavour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flavour, in which Marinette makes macarons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will be a little haphazard over the weekend as I'm going camping, and thus will not be able to upload anything. I'll try to upload tomorrow's chapter in the afternoon before I go. Then Saturday and Sunday's will have to go up Sunday afternoon/evening when I get back (assuming I finish them on time!)
> 
> I feel like after this chapter there'll be a shift in tone. Now that the lead up to the relationship is basically over, genres other than straight romance will make an appearance. Probably friendship and humour mostly, with maybe some superhero stuff.
> 
> Thanks as always for your support. I hope you enjoy the next instalment!

**Day Twelve: Flavour**

The image of Luka's confused expression morphing into surprised joy was one that Marinette would keep with her forever. And two weeks later, as she carefully whipped together butter and icing sugar, she replayed the moment afterwards on a continuous loop. How he'd shifted closer, spreading his arms to invite her into his embrace. His head resting on hers, the warmth of his neck against her face, the puffs of breath as he tried to smother his laughter. This kiss he pressed into her hair.

She had hoped for another kiss, closer to her mouth, but then Anarka had clambered on board and grinned slyly at the sight of them. "Don't the both of ye look cosy!"

Then, with cold horror clawing in her stomach, she'd realised her parents would soon notice her absence and she did _not_ want to deal with the aftermath of that. So, despite Luka's protesting grunt, she wormed her way out of the blanket and scrambled to grab her things. "I have to go!"

"Hang on, I'll walk you."

"No no, that's okay."

"Marinette," he said, disentangling himself. "I _want _to walk you home."

"I…" She had to pause for a moment, think about her priorities. As much as she wanted to walk with Luka, she had to get home as quickly as possible, and the quickest way to do that was as Ladybug, which meant no Luka. "I'm sorry, I really have to run. Like, literally run or my parents will murder me. Next week's special will be Marinette macarons."

"Sounds delicious," he joked. "At least text me when you get back, okay?"

"Okay," she promised and, waving to Anarka, fled.

Fortunately, she'd gotten back in time to throw the covers over her body and send Luka a quick text mere moments before Sabine peeked through the trapdoor. Luka's response didn't come for another half an hour.

**L: Spoke to Jule and she told me what you said earlier about Lila. Took a while but I convinced her that it wasn't true. Or at least that Lila was wrong. I don't think I've persuaded her it was a lie**  
**L: Oh. Jule is also now under the impression we're going out**  
** L: Like boyfriend and girlfriend**  
** L: It didn't help ma told her about our cuddle on deck**  
** L: Sorry if that's too much. I can try to set her straight if you like**  
** L: Unless it's something you want?**  
** L: I actually wanted to walk you home so I could ask you but...**

**M: are you asking me to be your girlfriend?**

**L: If you'll have me**

And really, how could she say no?

Marinette decided to wait to tell people about this development. She could hardly tell her parents without admitting she'd sneaked out when she was supposedly ill, and she didn't have the emotional strength to breach that topic with Alya and the others.

But Juleka knew, and the next day she sheepishly came up to Marinette before class.

"Sorry about yesterday," she mumbled, looking down, rubbing her wrist. "I should've let you explain."

"I wish you'd given me the chance to," Marinette replied but nonetheless she opened her arms to give Juleka a hug, which she happily returned. "But I forgive you."

School was a little easier after that. Although Alya and Alix still held a grudge, Juleka was back on her side, and with Juleka came Rose. Although neither girl thought Lila a full-out liar, they were coming around to the idea that not everything the girl said was strictly true.

But now, two weeks later, another issue had arisen.

Despite the fact she and Luka were officially dating. Despite the fact she had added a little heart next to his name on her contact list, and he had saved a photo of her as his background. A candid shot when she was staring at something off-camera with her pencil resting against her lips.

"_That's an awful photo!"_

"_No, it's artistic."_

"_It's pretentious."_

"_Which is a pretentious way of saying artistic."_

Despite all of that, he had yet to kiss her. He'd pecked her on the cheek, sure, and pressed his lips to her hair when he stood behind her. But he hadn't gone anywhere near her mouth. Marinette didn't realise how much she wanted him to until she realised he hadn't yet. Was it something she'd done? Maybe when he'd kissed her all those weeks ago, he'd found her skills lacking? Maybe she needed to practise? She'd been looking up ways to improve kissing online—a little put off by all of the tongue technique tips—when a message popped up from Luka.

**L: I'm bored  
L: Want to come over? I miss you you :(**

**M: i saw you two days ago!**

**L: Can't a guy miss his girlfriend?**

**M: youll have to keep missing me  
M: making macarons so i cant leave**

**L: Yum  
L: Save me some?**

**M: you can always come here and save some yourself**

**L: Be there in 20**

And so, twenty minutes later, she was whipping together butter and icing sugar, waiting for Luka to arrive. Tikki hovered next to her with a coy grin.

"I've never seen you so happy when making macarons..."

"Of course, Tikki." Marinette smiled, splitting the buttercream into four different bowls. "I get to see my—" she giggled— "my boyfriend soon…"

She had managed to flavour the four bowls of buttercream, and pipe onto three quarters of the macarons when Tikki suddenly went into hiding. Seconds later, Sabine poked her head around the doorway.

"Marinette. Your _friend_ is here to see you…"

Of course, even though Marinette hadn't told her mother that she was dating Luka, Sabine was bound to notice that he was around far more often, and came up more often in conversation, and that even his name made Marinette blush and smile. And from the way her eyes gleamed when she said '_friend_' it was clear she suspected.

Sabine stepped aside and Luka entered, face already pulled into a wide smile. "Hey," he said, the word trailing awkwardly in the air. In complete. Usually he'd follow it with a pet name. '_Hey, beautiful,' 'Hey, love,' 'Hey, my melody.'_ But he knew Sabine didn't know, and he respected she was waiting to tell them.

Not that Marinette was sure what she was waiting for anymore.

As soon as Sabine left, Luka stepped forward to sweep Marinette into a hug and hoist her into the air.

"Luka!" she shrieked, hands clamping on his shoulder. "Hey!"

He laughed and carefully set her down again. "How's it going? Nearly done with those macarons?"

"Is that the only reason you came over?" she teased, flicking his nose. "To eat macarons?"

He gasped and clutched his chest, as though greatly offended by such an accusation. "Of course not. I also came to see my beautiful girlfriend. The macarons are just a plus…"

"Well, I'm just about to pipe the last lot of buttercream so you'll have to wait a little bit longer."

He chuckled and leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Need any help?"

"No, this should only take a minute," she said. She expected him to go and sit down, maybe put on some music, but instead he leaned forward on the counter to watch her pipe.

"Why are they all different colours?" he asked.

"Different flavours."

"Ah. What flavours?"

She nearly told him, but an idea struck and so she merely smirked and replied, "You'll have to guess."

"Guess?"

"Mmhmm." With the piping done, she topped each piped biscuit with another one, creating the traditional sandwiched look, and added them to the plate of completed macarons. Yellow, green, pink, and brown. "Close your eyes."

Luka gave her an odd look, caught somewhere between amused and curious, but nonetheless he closed his eyes. Marinette selected a yellow macaron and broke it in half so it would fit in his mouth.

"Okay, open."

He laughed awkwardly and parted his lips just enough for Marinette to push the macaron in. He chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. "That has to be lemon. My favourite so far."

"It's the only one you've had!" she giggled. "But you're right. Okay, next." Marinette picked a brown one, broke it in half, and again pushed it past his lips.

"Mmm, definitely chocolate," he said. "That's my new favourite."

"Third one."

A green one now. It crumbled a little as she broke it, and when he ate it a few crumbs stuck to his lips. "That's nutty," he said, eyes twitching as he tried to shut them tighter. "So...some sort of nut?"

"Yeah," she replied vaguely. Her attention was caught by the crumb still clinging to his lip, bobbing as he spoke.

"Oh!" he said, eyebrows twitching upwards. "Pistachio?"

Marinette nodded, then realised he couldn't see. "Um, yeah! Pistachio. Ready...ready for the next one?"

"The pink one?"

"Yeah."

Marinette wasn't quite sure what made her do it. Her hand was hovering over a pink macaron, but her eyes were stuck on the green crumb on his mouth. Would it be too much? Would he be horrified? Would he jerk away, decide she was a mistake?

Too late. She took the plunge.

With one hand on the counter to keep her steady, she went onto the tips of her toes and lightly touched her lips against Luka's.

He made a startled noise with his throat, but he didn't pull away. When Marinette stepped back, releasing him and dislodging the crumb, his head moved as though following after her, eyes wide. Then he smiled, lips pushing into his his flushed cheeks. "I didn't quite get that," he said breathlessly. "I think I need another taste. Just to be sure."

Suddenly, Marinette realised what she had done, and the strange urge to simultaneously laugh and cry came on so strong she had to hide her face in her hands. Luka wound his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. She lowered her hands to press her face into his shirt.

"Are you alright?" he asked; she could hear that his smile had dropped.

She managed a nod."I just—" she swallowed, but couldn't keep down the string of panic trying to claw its way out of her. "I was worried because i-it's been, like, _two _weeks and you haven't even _tried _to kiss me and I thought maybe there w-was something wrong with me and I'm sorry I shouldn't have just kissed you like that. I'm such an _idiot_." She stopped when she realised he was laughing.

"Marinette," he said. "Calm down. I'm not upset or anything. Actually I'm the opposite. I've been wanting to kiss you for, well—" he laughed again— "for a long time. I was just being cautious because last time I kissed you, you ran away and wouldn't speak to me for a week."

"O-oh…"

"You can kiss me anytime you like."

"Can, uh…" She lifted her head, echoed the smile on his lips. "Can I kiss you again now?"

Luka swooped down, stopping when his nose touched hers, and grinned. "You don't have to ask," he murmured and kissed her.

Their moment was cut short by a thump and an excited gasp from the doorway. Marinette pulled back, startled, and span around to face her parents.

"Maman! Papa!"

Sabine laughed and grabbed her husband's arm. "We'll give you two some privacy," she said. "But we'll talk about this later, Marinette. Come on, dear…"

With a hearty shove, she managed to move Tom, who had frozen in shock, and shut the door. Marinette felt her face heat up and groaned.

"I guess they know now…"

"I'm sorry… Did you want to keep it from them for a bit longer."

"No." Marinette shook her head, face still warm and embarrassment curling in her stomach. "They had to find out sooner or later…I should have told them before now, to be honest." She forced herself to laugh, hoping to loosen the tension in her body, and glanced over at the macarons. "Did you want to try the other flavour?"

Luka tapped his chin thoughtfully then smirked and curled an arm around her waist. "Nah," he said, leaning down. "I've got my favourite flavour right here."


	13. Day Thirteen: Earrings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Earrings, in which Luka questions Marinette's priorites

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, next chapter. As promised, earlier than usual, but I won't be able to post again until Sunday. So Saturday's will be on Sunday, and Sunday's will...hopefully be Sunday too? We'll see...
> 
> This chapter is a little rushed, I'm afraid. Didn't have time to do much proofreading, and it does gloss over a few actions scenes because...I didn't fancy writing a step-by-step action scene.
> 
> This is also a canon-divergence of Reflekdoll, so if you haven't seen that episode, I would suggest watching it first because otherwise this a) might not make so much sense and b) will be a huge spoiler.
> 
> Thanks as ever for all your support!

* * *

**Day Thirteen: Earrings**

"Hey, Adrien!" Marinette called as she and Alya ran down the stairs to catch up with the boy in question. "I wanted to ask you a favour!"

There were plenty of perks to dating Luka. Beautiful music whenever she wanted, a kind voice when she was feeling down, a warm body to curl up against when it was cold.

And she no longer stuttered around Adrien.

Which, she supposed, made sense. Now that her feelings for him had drained completely, the nervous energy she used to have around him was gone, making school a lot less stressful in that regard.

It was still stressful in another regard, however. Despite no longer having the motivation of jealousy, Alya and many classmates still wouldn't let go of the notion that her reasons for disliking Lila were unfounded. Something Lila took great pleasure in if the smirks outside class were anything to go by.

Fortunately, Marinette had managed to more or less patch up her friendship with Alya after sitting down with her and the other girls and revealing she was now dating Luka.

"I swear it's not some plot to get Adrien to notice me," she'd said. "I honestly really, really like him."

It had taken them a while to get used to the idea, but once again they were all friends. At least, as long as Lila wasn't mentioned.

Adrien and Nino paused at the bottom of the stairs and waited for Marinette to catch up. "Sure, what can I do for you?" he asked.

"I'm doing a fashion shoot for the website I want to start," she replied, holding up her phone. "But I would really appreciate your help with it."

"Yeah, we could use your expertise in fashion photography," Alya added. "And as we've got a free period with Mme. Mendeliev not being in…Your father doesn't have to know about it!"

Adrien, being the lovable if easily swayed doormat he was, agreed easily as long as he was back home in an hour. They gathered the other girls and trekked down to Marinette's house where, in her attic room, rummaged through her finished designs to pick the best ones for her website.

"I think the striped jumpers would be good," Adrien said, pulling them out along with straight-legged jeans and red berets. "They look quite traditional, which would be cool for your first post on the website, don't you think?"

"Yeah, that would be cool," Marinette agreed. "Oh, and I made a dress based on traditional styles too…Umm…" She furtled through her wardrobe and finally pulled out the dress. White, slightly puffed sleeves like a blouse with a black, kneel-length strap-dress sewn over it, along with a triangular blue shawl. "Who wants to model these?"

Juleka, who had been standing at the back of the group fiddling with her hair, stepped forward. She'd clipped her fringe back, exposing her forehead and both eyes, eliciting a gasp from the group.

"You look so pretty," Rose cooed.

"I've never seen the top half of your face before," Mylène commented.

Juleka took a deep breath then mumbled, "I'd like to model."

"You would?" Marinette asked then quickly added, "That's great! What would you like to wear?"

"The dress!" Rose suggested. "You'd look so pretty in it, Juleka!"

No one else volunteered to model clothes, so Alya decided Marinette should wear one set of the striped jumper ensemble, and Adrien the other as he had experience in front of the camera. Accessories were next. Marientte fished out a blue and white barrette for Juleka's hair, and woven bands for her wrists, but paused when considering what she and Adrien should wear.

"I think these ones," Adrien said, coming up behind her and pointing to the pair of green clip-ons she was holding. "They'll compliment the colours well."

"You're right," she agreed, passing him a pair but part of her was reluctant. Different earrings meant she'd have to take out her Ladybug ones. Still, it would just be for a little bit…

Behind her screen, after changing her clothes, Marinette hesitantly pulled out one earring, trying not to look at Tikki's glare. "Marinette, you can't!" she cried. "What if Ladybug's needed!"

"You won't be far," Marinette replied quietly. "It's not for long, anyway. Here, you look after them."

Soon, all three models were changed and wearing their accessories. However, as Rose and Mylènewere sorting out Juleka's make-up and hair, Marinette noticed Juleka had gone very pale and was beginning to hyperventilate. Alya, who had her phone out recording as usual, lowered it a little in concern.

"Juleka, you okay?" she asked.

If anything, this made Juleka's hyperventilating worse. She clenched her fists, eyes trained on the ground, mouth mumbling unintelligible words. Marinette made her way over and gently grasped Juleka's arms.

"It was really cool of you to agree to by a model, Juleka," she said. "But I can tell you don't feel that comfortable about it."

"Decide soon," Alya said. "You've only got Adrien and me for another thirty minutes."

"Where are you going?" Alix demanded.

"Meeting Lila. She's got some major news about Ladybug to give me, so we're having another interview!"

Marinette tried to swallow the growl threatening to rise in her throat and looked back to Juleka, who had somehow managed to turn even paler. "Juleka, I don't want to force you to do something you don't want to do…"

She wondered if maybe she should call Luka, if he would know how to encourage her or calm her down, but Alya suddenly stepped forward and grabbed the back of Marinette's jacket.

"Come on, girl. We need to get this photo shoot done now."

"But Juleka—"

"She clearly doesn't want to do it," Alya pointed out. "Don't pressure her! Besides, Lila just texted me. She has to meet earlier because of a doctor's appointment for her weak wrists, so we have even less time!"

Marinette bit down on her bottom lip so hard she thought she might make it bleed. Before she could cobble together her protest, Alya had grasped her wrist and proceeded to drag her out of the room.

"Come on, Adrien! Girls! Let's at least get shots of these outfits!"

The last Marinette saw of Juleka was her forlorn face before she was pushed unceremoniously down the stairs, with Adrien, Alix and Mylène behind. When Rose, face crumpled in worry, joined them, they piled into Adrien's limo and begged his bodyguard to drive them.

Marinette wasn't sure if she was surprised or not when, mere minutes into the photo shoot, a giant pink robot appeared and started shooting lasers.

"My friends!" Reflekta's voice boomed "Just the people I've been looking for!"

As Reflekdoll wreaked havoc in the park, turning civilians into Reflekta clones, Marinette scarpered to find a good place to transform. "Oh no, this is all my fault!" she cried to herself as she ducked behind a flipped car. "Juleka _did_ want to model...I'll have to make this up to her, but I have to save her first. Tikki, Spots On!"

She waited for the Miraculous' energising power to wash over her, but it didn't.

"Tikki?" she said cautiously, raising her hands to check her earrings…

Earrings! She was wearing the green ones from the shoot still! So her earrings, and Tikki, were still in the limo. Wishing she'd kept her earrings in her pocket instead of in her purse, Marinette charged out of her hiding place, hoping to reach the limo before Reflekdoll saw her…

"Marinette!"

Marinette nearly tripped over in surprise and swung around to find Luka sprinting towards her. "Luka?"

"Please tell me that's not Jule," he murmured. Marinette followed his gaze to Reflekdoll, stomping around with its back to them. She sighed, rubbing her arm.

"I'm sorry, Luka. This is all my fault. She looked so uncomfortable and I asked if she wanted to drop out then Alya began pushing to hurry up and-and next we know Juleka…" Closing her eyes, Marinette leaned forward to bump her forehead against his shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

Luka gently rubbed the back of her head. "I won't pretend like I'm not annoyed," he said, voice strained. "But I'm more annoyed with myself. I should have known her anxiety would flare up...I should have come with her."

"It's not your fault, Luka. _We_ were there. We should _done _something…" Marinette looked up at him. His grim mouth was pulled straight.

"There's not much we can do about it now," he said. "Come on, let's find somewhere safe for you."

"No! I need to find my earrings."

"Your...earrings? Marinette, no. You need to get to safety."

"You don't understand. I _need_ to find my earrings."

"What I _don't_ understand is why your earrings are more important than your safety."

Marinette glanced behind her; Reflekdoll had turned around, aiming straight for them… With a yelp, she barrelled into Luka, and wound up getting hit herself. "Luka, run!" she yelled, pushing him again. "I'll run this way. She can't follow both of us!"

Luka didn't look convinced by the plan, but as Reflekdoll geared up for another blast, he nodded and took off. Marinette grimaced at her hot-pink hands, but reminded herself it wouldn't be for long. She just had to find Tikki…

Until she spotted another kwami. Plagg.

Well, she thought, grabbing the Cat Miraculous from Plagg and slipping it onto her finger. Better the wrong Miraculous than none.

* * *

Luka huffed as he ducked around a corner and pressed his back into the wall. What was Marinette thinking? Looking for earrings when there was an akuma about? How could jewellery be more important than her safety?

Reflekdoll was heading in his direction, but its attention was on someone else: a figure in pink. Rose. He ran towards her, legs aching already, heart thumping. Reflekdoll was getting ready to shoot, pink light gathering at its mouth…

With an extra burst of energy he didn't know he had, Luka grabbed Rose and pulled her sideways away from the laser, rolled underneath to shield her fall. He thought he saw a blur of red but when he tried to look for it, there was nothing there.

Reflekdoll was bearing down on them. Rose scrambled to her feet, Luka following to stand in front of her, placing himself between her and the robot.

"Jule!" he yelled. "I know you're in there. Let go of Reflekta! Please! Come back to us!"

"Juleka was pathetic and useless," Reflekta spat from within the robot, her voice thundering. "There is only Reflekta now! Soon there will ONLY be Reflekta!"

Reflekdoll began forming another beam but was stopped by a long stick smashing into its face. Chat Noir arrived, flipping in the air, long hair whipping behind…

Then Luka realised it wasn't Chat Noir at all, but a girl. Someone pretending to be Chat Noir? Or…

His mind twinged, like there was a connection trying to form but every time he got close he would lose part of it in the mist. But the longer he stared at the female Chat Noir, the more familiar she seemed.

Luka shook his head. Something to ponder when there wasn't a giant robot running around. He turned to Rose, frowning. "Go," he said. "Quick, get out of here."

Rose whined her protest, and Luka thought would refuse to go, but then she nodded and scarpered. Luke waited until she was out of sight before running closer to the battle, ducking behind broken monuments and cars whenever Reflekdoll looked his way. He had to be ready when the battle finished to help his sister.

Eventually another figure joined the fight. Ladybug, but male and blond. Then he realised that they were people pretending to be the heroes, but the same heroes with their costumes swapped. How that worked he had no idea. Still, not wanting to get in their way, as they seemed to be having some trouble communicating, he kept himself low to watch.

After a lot of faff and what looked like a few arguments, and a mishap when the robot was cataclysmed and went haywire as a result. Ladybug and Chat Noir (or whatever they went by now) managed to snag Juleka from inside. They were quick to dispatch the akuma and return her to normal, leaving her kneeling in the street, looking quite bemused.

Luka ran out from his hiding place and fell to the ground next to her. "Juleka! Are you okay?"

"Luka?" she slurred, disoriented. "What are you…"

"Look out!"

Another beam of light came from the thrashing robot. Female-Chat Noir pulled Male-Ladybug aside as Luka yanked Juleka out of the way. "Come on," he said, gently grasping her hand and pulling her to her feet. "Let's get out of here…"

He glanced back at the two heroes, and found Female-Chat Noir giving him a strange look. Something like affection, or guilt? Again, his mind went twinged, like there was a thought trying to reach the forefront but failing.

Luka shook his head and guided his sister away from the robot. They found a safe-ish place to hide in the nearby park, sheltered by the trees but still able to watch the battle. Without an akuma at the helm, the robot would surely be easier to defeat.

"I'm sorry," Juleka mumbled, hugging herself. She was wearing a different outfit; black and white dress with a blue shawl. "I let him get to me again."

"No, Juleka. It's not your fault. Hawkmoth took advantage of you for being human; that could never be your fault."

"But it _is _my fault," she sobbed, covering her face with her hands. Luka wrapped his arm around her and rubbed comforting circles on her shoulder. "If I was more confident. If I just said that I _wanted _to do it…"

"It's okay, Jule," he murmured. "You'll get your chance. I'm sure Marinette will let you be in the shoot when this is all taken care of."

"But Alya and Adrien can't stay any longer, and…"

"Do they have to be there?"

"Adrien's modelling, and Alya's taking pictures."

"Someone else can take pictures," Luka suggested. "And as for Adrien...hmm…"

"You could fill in."

"Me?"

Juleka smirked, nudged him with her shoulder. "Marinette would be pleased. She's wearing a matching outfit."

Luka thought back to what Marinette was wearing earlier. He hadn't paid much attention to it, but he knew it wasn't his style. But if it would make Juleka happy, and if made Marinette happy…

"We'll see," was all he said.

Finally, the two heroes managed to subdue the robot and revert everything to normal. Luka wanted to run back, find Marinette, but Juleka tugged his arm.

"Stay here," she said. "This is where they were doing the shoot; they'll come back."

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Marinette sprinted into the park, practically collapsing in relief beside them. "I'm so glad you two are okay! Juleka, I'm so sorry about what happened earlier. I should have let Alya drag me off like that."

"It's okay, Marinette."

When Adrien and Alya arrived with the others, it was to say they had to leave. "But that's okay," Marinette said. "Juleka, if you want, we can take some photos of you too on my phone."

Juleka smiled and nodded. "Thanks, Marinette. And Luka can take over as male model."

The minute the words left her mouth, Luka knew he would have no choice. The other girls gasped excitedly whilst Marinette flushed pink. "That's a great idea!" Rose squealed. "You guys will look so cute!"

Fortunately, Adrien's clothes were in the limo, so he was able to awkwardly get changed in the backseat, shielded from the world by the tinted windows. Then, when he was back in his usual outfit, Luka was manhandled into the limo to change into Marinette's design.

It wasn't as bad as he thought. The colours were fine: dark blue and white. Denim. The red beret wasn't something pick, but he quite liked the silver and green jewellery. When he emerged, feeling a little silly as the jeans were too short, the girls all shrieked in delight.

Alya pulled Marinette aside to whisper something in her ear, causing her to blush the same shade of red as her beret. "Alya!" she yelped. But Alya only smirked and winked then waved goodbye and ran off. Soon after, Adrien left too, leaving the girls and Luka to finish the photo shoot without him.

It wasn't really that bad, Luka decided, as he hooked arms with Marinette, the Eiffel Tower rearing behind them. It was perhaps a tad awkward, being poked and prodded into a position by Rose, who had taken over as artistic director whilst Alix took the photos. But it wasn't that bad. Maybe that was because Marinette was with him, giggling sweetly as she adjusted his beret. Or maybe it was because Juleka's smile was the widest he'd ever seen it.

Would he do it again? That remained to be seen, but as he walked home hand-in-hand with Marinette later that afternoon, when her other friends had left—bar Juleka—and she asked him if he'd enjoyed himself, he had to say yes.

"There's something else I wanted to ask you," he said. His normal clothes were bundled under his arm, the accessories safe inside his jeans pocket. "Earlier, when you were looking for your earrings. Why were they so important?"

But Marinette didn't answer. Only shrugged and shook her head, eyes flicking away from his face. He looked at her earrings: plain; black; understated.

His mind twinged.


	14. Day Fourteen: Cotton Candy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cotton candy, in which Luka takes Marinette on a date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news, I'm back. Again, I'm sorry about the lack of update yesterday. I'll try to get back on track over the next few days, but I might be a bit out of sync for a while. 
> 
> This chapter frustrated my poor, English brain which wanted desperately to write candy floss instead of cotton candy, but alas. Technically it should be 'la barbe à papa' (or 'daddy's beard') as that's what they call it in France.
> 
> Thank you for all of your support. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Day Fourteen: Cotton Candy**

"_Hey, you free today?"_

"Uhh...yeah? I think so. I have some homework to finish but that can wait."

"_There's a fair in town today. You want to go?"_

"Ooh! Sure, that sounds fun!"

"_Great. I'll pick you up in ten?"_

"Okay! See you soon!"

Marinette ended the call and squealed. "Tikki! He's taking me to the fair!"

Tikki laughed, spinning in the air. "The weather's finally getting warmer," she said. "It's a great day for it!"

"Spring is finally here!" Marinette sighed happily. Spring was definitely her favourite season. Or one of her favourite seasons: Summer was great too, and autumn was beautiful, but winter was so inspiring...

But spring was great, and that's all that mattered.

Marinette ummed and ahhed over her outfit for a while before deciding to change into something a little nicer. A little more _date-like_. She knew Luka didn't really care for such things, but she liked making the effort. And even though he didn't mind what she wore, he always made sure to compliment her when he noticed.

Having settled on cropped jeans and a pink blouse embroidered with white birds, she quickly tugged on her shoes and grabbed her bag, holding it open for Tikki to fly inside, before hurtling downstairs. Her parents were in the bakery but looked up when she came barrelling in.

"You going out, sweetie pie?" Sabine asked. "You look very nice."

"Luka's taking me to the fair!"

"Oh, how lovely!" Her smile turned sly. "Things going well with him? You've been dating for how long now…?"

"Just over three months," Marinette replied, feeling a soppy smile spread across her cheeks. "It's going so well, maman. Everything just feels so _right _when I'm around him."

Sabine shared a look with Tom, prompting both parents to chuckle.

"You know, we still haven't had the chance to meet him properly," Tom commented. "As your boyfriend, I mean. After that mess with Chat Noir…" He trailed off, but Marinette knew what he meant. He was wary of coming on too strong and frightening Luka off. But Luka was so chill, she doubted anything could frighten him off, not even Tom trying to plan his future as his son-in-law.

"You will," Marinette assured. "Maybe we can invite him around for dinner or something?"

"That would be lovely, dear. You'll have to see when he's free; next Thursday or Friday would be good," Sabine said. Something outside the window caught her eye. "Looks like your young man's here…"

Indeed, mere seconds later, Luka walked through the door. As predicted, he looked as he always did: laid back in a slightly punk manner. Marinette didn't mind; it was an attractive look, after all. Especially when he flashed her a crooked grin and booped her nose with his finger.

"Hey, beautiful," he said. "You look great. Ready to go?"

Marinette nodded, grinning when he grabbed her hand. "Yeah, I'm ready. Bye, maman! Bye, papa!"

"Have a good time, dear!" Sabine called as the two made their way out the door. "Remember to find out about dinner!"

"I will!" With a final wave, Marinette shut the door behind her. She smiled down at her hand, intertwined with Luka's, and swung it slightly as they walked.

"So, what's this about dinner? Doing something special?" he asked. She felt him swing their hands too.

"Oh, my parents and I think it would be nice for you to join us for dinner one day, maybe next Thursday or Friday. They say they haven't met you as my boyfriend yet, so…"

"Ah," he said with what might have been a nervous chuckle, or a soft cough. "Friday isn't great for me. So, Thursday?"

"Perfect."

The fair wasn't far. It was held in a park a ten minute walk down the road, which had been filled overnight with tents and rides and stalls. A Ferris wheel reared above the crowds, the smell of warm doughnuts and caramel apples permeated the air, the sounds of shrieking and laughter swirled around them, all beneath the warm spring sun.

They ambled around for a bit to check out the stalls and try a few games. Luka, it turned out, was an awful shot, but Marinette managed to win him a small, cuddly snake on a key-ring by knocking over buckets with a rubber ball.

The rides were fun too, from the pendulum banana boats to the the high swings which span so fast you were almost parallel to the ground. They had decided to get the fast rides out of the way first so that they could then buy a snack from a food booth without worrying about throwing it up later.

With a little bag of warm doughnuts and powdered sugar between them, Luka and Marinette headed onto the Ferris wheel. Luka proved, yet again, that despite his almost edgy look, every bone in his body was romantic when, at the top of the wheel, he drew Marinette close and laid his chin on her head.

Apparently, when he'd found out Marinette liked physical affection in a relationship, he used every opportunity to pamper her with gentle touches and embraces, and Marinette loved it.

She was pretty sure she loved him too, but it was too early to say, right?

Instead, she commented, "It's so beautiful. I almost wish I could stay up here forever. Don't you?"

"Sure," he replied, head dipping slightly so his mouth was just behind her ear. "As long as I'm with you."

She nearly melted right then and there, but managed to hold herself together. "You're such a sap."

"You love it."

"Hmmm, yeah, I do."

He nuzzled her shoulder and kissed the back of her neck, then withdrew slightly. "What do you want to do next?"

Oh, right. Their capsule was slowly descending; their time on the Ferris wheel was coming to an end. Marinette wasn't sure what she wanted to do next. There were a few more rides, she supposed. The teacups, dodgems, a small, gentle roller coaster. And some games they had yet to check out. Her eyes alighted on a coconut shy, and she remembered with a smile the days when her father insisted on trying it every time they saw one. Unfortunately, his aim had been as bad as Luka's. It might be fun to try and win a coconut as a trophy in his honour…

But then, by the cotton candy stall next to the coconut shy, a child kneeling on the floor was suddenly enveloped in black and purple plasma.

Hawkmoth.

An akuma.

_Now!?_

* * *

"Marinette, time to get off," Luka said, nudging his girlfriend who seemed entranced by something else. Marinette turned to him, blinking hard, then grabbed his hand and all but yanked him out of the capsule, leaving their nearly-empty bag of doughnuts on the seat.

"There's an akuma," she yelped. "I just saw it."

"I didn't see any—" Luka began, then the screaming started. He and Marinette whirled around to see a large, pink mountain erupt from the crowd. "Oh, there it is."

Marinette bit her lip—fear, he guessed, but she wasn't the fearful type—and let go of him.

"Marinette?"

"I, uhh, have to go to the bathroom?"

He stared at her. "_Now?_ No, we have to get out of here. What if the akuma knocks over the stalls and traps you inside?"

"But—"

The shrieks crescendo-ed as a throng of people charged towards, through, past them, chased by what could only be described as a giant piece of cotton candy. Luka dove forward, reaching for Marinette's hand before the crowd could separate them too much…

But she was already gone.

He cursed under his breath. Why now? Frantically, he tried to peer over the hordes of people, but they were moving too much, pushing and jostling, and soon he was dragged along with them. He could only hope that Marinette had been pushed along as well, and that he'd find her when the crowds thinned.

It didn't stop him from yelling her name every other second, hands cupped over his mouth, voice lost among the screams. "Marinette! _Marinette!"_

The space opened a little as they reached the edge of the fair where Luka spied the block of portable toilets. He broke away from the crowd and sprinted to the girl's bathroom, stopping just shy of the door.

"Marinette!?" he called, desperation drowning and awkwardness he felt. "Are you in there?"

No reply. He yelled again, but just then Chat Noir came flying through the air and slammed straight through the bathroom door. Luka ran up the metal stairs to help him, but paused in the doorway.

Chat Noir stumbled towards him, rubbing his head. "Looks like this cotton candy's got some _bite _to it," he said. "You might want to find somewhere safer. And, uh…" His green eyes flickered to the door, clearly displaying it was the _girl's _bathroom, then back to Luka with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm looking for someone," Luka explained hurriedly.

"There's no one in here," Chat Noir replied. "Now, if you'll excuse me...it's time for _dessert_."

With a two-fingered salute and a grin, he used his baton to catapult himself high into the air and back towards the cotton candy monster.

If Marinette hadn't slipped away to the bathroom, as she said she wanted to, then where had she gone? Why did she always go missing at the worst of times? Luka groaned, tenting his hands over his nose, trying to think, trying to keep calm.

Aha. Fingers suddenly feeling big and awkward, Luka fumbled his phone out of his pocket and brought up Marinette's contact info. He pressed call, held the phone to his ear, waited anxiously for her to pick up…

She didn't. The phone rang and rang. And rang.

He hung up, tried again.

His third attempt was interrupted by a glob of cotton candy flying past his face. The battle was drawing closer to him, the monster stamping and swiping a Ladybug and Chat Noir. The superheros flipped and vaulted, trying to land hits, but for every bit that managed to cut off, another growth of floss would sprout.

Luka began to run, trying to skirt around the battle as he phoned Marinette _again. _But Ladybug had managed to trip up the akuma with her yo-yo and send it flailing to the ground, its head landing near Luka's feet.

"_AAAAUGHRRRR!" _screeched the akuma eloquently. It was rather creepy up close; a large, pink cloud with empty sockets for eyes and a gaping hole for a mouth. Luka staggered backwards, nearly dropping his phone. The akuma made to grab at him, but its arms were stumpy, still missing a few chunks where it hadn't grown back yet. Its legs were two stumps, but feet were forming rapidly and soon enough the akuma was standing up again, yelling its garbled speech.

And _still _Marinette wouldn't pick up.

The akuma raised its hand, a bulb of cotton candy grew on its palm then suddenly shot forward. Luka barely had time to flinch, but before it reached him, Ladybug's yo-yo sprung out and punched it out of the air.

"You need to get out of here," Ladybug yelled, coming to stand in front of him, glaring down the akuma, spinning her yo-yo. "Now!"

"I can't," Luka exclaimed. "My girlfriend, I can't find her."

To his surprise, Ladybug looked over her shoulder at him with slightly flushed cheeks, opened her mouth to reply but couldn't quite manage any words.

Why did it seem so familiar?

"_CATACLYSM!"_

Chat Noir's yell snatched both of their attention as he pounced on the akuma, one hand crackling with black energy. He swiped at the cotton candy monster, but instead of disintegrating or dissolving, it shrank. The pale pink turned dark, shrivelled like raw wool. The empty face melted into a sugary skull.

"Huh," Chat Noir said, frowning. "I thought that would work…"

"If only you'd think more often," Ladybug muttered. She gingerly touched her ears. "Luka, get out of here," she snapped. "You have to go. I promise, your girlfriend will be okay. Find somewhere safe for your_self_ for now."

There was no use in arguing with Ladybug, especially as she seemed so irate, so Luka turned and ran. But he had no intention of finding a safe place.

He ducked behind a games stand, looked at his phone again. Marinette's contact photo grinned back, all flushed cheeks and warm eyes. He was used to seeing it every day when he texted her, but why did it feel more familiar today? Because he'd tried to phone her three times now?

Fourth time's the charm. Luka pressed _call_, waited. The phone rang once, twice…

Stopped.

He didn't even wait for her to speak, just opened his mouth to cry her name.

He barely got past the first syllable when something cold struck his back. Pink crawled up his arms, dissolving skin, flesh, bone. Writhed up his neck, into his face.

The world fell away.


	15. Day Fifteen: Missed Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missed connection, in which Marinette is fed up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news, everyone! This is a direct continuation of Day Fourteen! The cliff-hanger will be resolved. Hurray! Also means you might want to make sure you've read that chapter before reading this if you haven't already.
> 
> You might have to squint to find the connection (lel) between the prompt and the chapter, but it is there. Kinda. 
> 
> Thanks as always for all of your support.

**Day Fifteen: Missed Connection**

"_Now_?" Luka cried incredulously. "No, we have to get out of here. What if the akuma knocks over the stalls and traps you inside?"

Marinette tried desperately to come up with an excuse that didn't sound ridiculous or lame, but her mind went blank. She managed to force out a weak, "But—"

Fortunately, a sudden rush of people running from the akuma served as ample distraction. The crowd forced its way between them, and the moment Marinette lost sight of Luka in the rush, she slipped away, weaving against the current, murmuring apologies Luka couldn't hear.

The akuma—cotton candy-themed?—made a swipe at her as she passed a little too close, but she dodged easily enough. Eventually, she found a private nook, inside one of the food carts, abandoned by the owner, in which to transform.

"Let's get this done with quickly, Tikki," she said, curling her fists. "Spots On!"

Suited up, Ladybug swung back to the scene. The akuma—she'd no idea what it went by—was slow but strong. With broad sweeps of its huge arms, it knocked vans and stalls aside as though they were made of paper. Its broken screeches split the air. Large blobs of cotton candy littered the area. But as far as she could tell, the monster didn't have any object on it that could contain the akuma. No weapon, no accessories, no clothes. Just a glob of cotton candy with indents for eyes and a gaping maw.

"Where are you hiding, little butterfly," she muttered, spinning her yo-yo, half-crouched, calculating where first to strike. She lashed out experimentally; the string wrapped around the monster's wrist only to slip through and fall uselessly to the ground, followed by the cotton candy hand. The akuma stared bemused at its hand-less arm then turned a furious glare on Ladybug, shrieked again, and tried to smack her with its other hand. She easily dodged, flipping backwards to land on top of a food van.

So, the monster _wasn't_ indestructible. But a few seconds later, the wrist stump bubbled and stringy bits of cotton candy erupted, forming a new hand. Destructible, but regenerative.

Brilliant.

With a light _thump,_ Chat Noir landed beside her. "Say, Milady, how about we get this over with quickly and then enjoy a romantic date at the fair," he chimed, eyebrows wiggling.

"Actually I'm kind of in the middle of something," Ladybug replied, rolling her eyes. "But I agree about getting this done quickly."

"You only have to ask." Smirking, Chat Noir leapt forward, baton lifted to smack the akuma…

Only for the monster to backhand him and send him flying across the fair into the block of portable toilets.

"That worked," she grunted, spinning her yo-yo again when the akuma turned back to her. "Your powers are just super strength then, huh?"

The wrong thing to say, apparently, as the akuma lifted its hand and shot a glob of cotton candy at her which she narrowly missed. Missiles too? That made things trickier; would the projectile floss have any side-effects if it struck?

Ladybug decided she didn't want to know.

"Looks like I'm going to need some help," she muttered, jumping down behind the van to use it as cover against the sticky bullets. "Lucky Charm!"

A long tube fell into her hands. She looked around for inspiration, but nothing came to mind; clearly they'd have to move the battle somewhere else. Or maybe she'd need Chat Noir, who was now vaulting back towards her.

"Sorry about that, Milady. I'll have to try harder to win you a prize," he said, winking. "What's the tube for?"

"I'm not sure yet," she replied.

The monster shrieked again, and suddenly the van was swept out from in front of them, crashing into a game. Two people who had been hiding behind the stall rushed out, screaming, only to be hit by two blasts from the akuma. They barely made it three steps before they were consumed by the cotton candy and became shapeless, pink forms on the ground.

So, all of the blobs from earlier...were people?

Ladybug swallowed thickly; of all the fates that had temporarily befallen people from an akuma's powers, being turned into a lifeless glob of cotton candy looked to be one of the worst, and she briefly wondered what it must feel like.

Hopefully she wouldn't have to find out.

The grass beneath her feet grew damp, and looking around she realised that the reservoir from the game had burst, leaking water across the ground.

Of course! An idea formed, but she needed more equipment to make it work. "Chat Noir," she yelled. "Distract the akuma; I need to grab a few things!"

"As you wish." He grinned, extending is baton, and turned to the howling monster. "You know, I never cared much for cotton candy. Always reminded me of pink dust bunnies."

Ladybug rolled her eyes, but at least the akuma's attention was now on him. She went to the wreckage of the water-shooting game and quickly tore open one of the guns. Tubes. A pump. A reservoir. And water. These guns would be far too small to do any real damage: not enough range, not enough water. But her tube was bigger, so maybe she just needed to make a bigger gun…

A pump was easy to locate; there was a selection at the inflatable slides nearby. She grabbed a spare one and hooked it under one arm, and ran back to the battle whilst trying to hook up the tube to the pump. The vessel for the water she made out of an empty bottle inside a food van, which may once have held milk or oil. With a system of elastic bands and a plastic clip, she made the shooting system and trigger. Now all she needed was water…

The battle was still raging between Chat Noir and the monster. With no water in sight, Ladybug stashed her makeshift water pistol to help before her partner got himself blasted. With no way of making any real impact, their method was to just run and flip around the akuma, cutting away bits when they could as whenever it needed to regenerate body parts it had to stop fighting so hard.

If she could slow it down for longer, she could get away to go hunting for more water. She vaguely recalled seeing a game earlier with a large vat of water: some sort of dunking booth? Ladybug wound her yo-yo between two posts and shared a look with Chat Noir.

One good thing about their partnership was their ability to communicate ideas non-verbally. With just that look, he nodded and smirked then jumped in front of the monster. After yelling a few more insulting quips, prompting the akuma to go for him, he ran towards the yo-yo and leapt over the string. Moments later, the akuma tripped and crashed into the grass. Then, Ladybug noticed a figure near where the akuma's head landed. A familiar figure.

She choked on her gasp and slammed her hand over her mouth before she could shout Luka's name. At least he had a few seconds to escape while the akuma regenerated its feet. But he wasn't running—why wasn't he running? Was he...was he looking at his phone?

She began sprinting towards him, but her eyes alighted on the dunking booth she'd been looking for, and with it a large vat of water suspended above a chair. She hesitated: go for the vat or save Luka from being transformed into confectionery?

Apparently, Chat Noir hadn't spotted Luka. Or maybe he didn't care about Luka. Or maybe he thought the akuma was more-or-less defeated. But he must have noticed her staring at the water game because he approached it with a jovial bounce in his step and smartly grabbed a sand-filled ball.

"Sure you don't want to stay at the fair with me after this?" he asked, tossing the ball in the air and catching it again. "I'm a great shot—I'll win you lots of prizes! Maybe we'll skip the cotton candy though…"

She saw him square up, pull back his arm to make the shot, and realised what he was going to do.

"Chat, no!" she yelled, but it was too late. The ball soared through the air, smacked into the little target next to the vat, and sent a torrent of water cascading over the empty chair.

With no other obvious sources of water nearby, her plan was rendered useless. She glowered at Chat Noir's bemused face then turned and sprinted, hoping it wasn't too late to save Luka. The akuma had regrown its feet now, and Luka was still just standing in front of it—was he hurt?—and the akuma was lifting its hand to shoot cotton candy at him...

With a shout, Ladybug shot out her yo-yo and knocked the missile out of the air before it could hit Luka. She jumped and landed in front of him, glaring at the akuma, ready to fend off more missiles.

"You need to get out of here," she demanded. She hoped her voice didn't give away her inner panic. "Now!"

"I can't! My girlfriend, I can't find her."

He was lingering in the danger zone looking for...her? Ladybug felt her face grow warm and twisted to glance at him, wanting to say something. But again, her mind went blank, no words were forthcoming. What could she say? That Marinette was safe? Would Ladybug know about Marinette and Luka? And wouldn't Luka just beg to know where Marinette was to find her? And what would he do when Marinette wasn't there?

Her thoughts came to an abrupt halt when Chat Noir streaked down on the akuma, shouting, "_CATACLYSM_!"

Destructive magic scratched the akuma, which immediately shrank as the cotton candy congealed into a dark, gelatinous mass. It shrieked again; its voice was lower, thicker, angrier.

"Huh," Chat Noir commented, landing beside them and frowning at his hand. "I thought that would work…"

"If only you'd think more often," Ladybug growled. The akuma seemed momentarily stopped as it got used to its new body, but they didn't have long. And, she remembered, as her earrings beeped, that neither did she. She touched her ears then turned back to Luka. "Luka, get out of here. You have to go. I promise, your girlfriend will be okay. Find somewhere safe for your_self_ for now."

She thought he was going to argue, but to her relief he nodded and fled. Just in time too, as the akuma was back to attacking them. Its diminished size meant it had to go close-range to deal any damage, and no longer had size on its size. But it was still strong, and its body too thick for her yo-yo to cut through. Instead, the string just got stuck to its arm, which he used to fling her aside with a sharp yank.

Chat Noir leapt over to help her back to her feet. "What's the plan then?"

"I don't know anymore!" she snapped. "You ruined my Lucky Charm!"

"You've said that plenty of times before and it's always worked out," he replied, grinning. The sort of grin that always annoyed her, but this time she wanted to smack it off his stupid face.

"No," she growled. "It almost ruined it. This time it _has._ And my transformation's about to wear off!"

"Then let's get this done quickly!" Chat Noir turned back to face down the akuma...only the akuma was no longer there. "Uh…"

"I'm going to recharge," Ladybug said. "Then I'll use Lucky Charm again and come up with a new plan. You go find the akuma."

Chat Noir, still not looking the least bit ashamed, nodded and vaulted away. When he was gone, Ladybug dropped her transformation and caught an exhausted Tikki.

"Sorry," she whispered, fishing a cookie out of her purse. "You'll have to eat quickly. I need to transform again, thanks to Chat Noir…"

As Tikki scarfed down the cookie, tired eyes filled with determination, Marinette pulled out her phone with the thought of texting Luka to see if he was okay, maybe tell him she'd been dragged away by the crowd. But before she could open up her messaging app, her screen lit up with an incoming call. Luka.

Tikki was nearly halfway through the cookie. Marinette figured she had enough time to quickly talk to him then fake a bad connection to get back to the fight, so she tapped the answer button.

Before she could speak, she heard a garbled sound, then the phone fell silent. Had she missed the call? She tried phoning him back, but she couldn't get through. His phone wouldn't connect; it just beeped like a flat-lining heart monitor. Maybe he was trying to phone her again? She ended the call, waited, but nothing. She rang him again.

_Beeeeeeep._

* * *

Recharged and transformed again, Ladybug hurtled through the fair with her yo-yo by her ear, waiting for Chat Noir to pick up.

"_All done, Milady?"_

"Where are you?"

"_By the Ferris wheel."_

She ended the call and veered off track, heading towards the wheel. Her heart gave an angry thump, but she wasn't sure what exactly she was angry about anymore.

The Ferris wheel was nearby, and soon enough she found Chat Noir and the akuma engaged in a sort of dance: Chat Noir pirouetting and leaping with his baton spinning above, the akuma stumbling inelegantly after him. She didn't alert them to her presence straight away; instead Ladybug took a moment to assess the situation. The akuma could no longer be sliced through, so they couldn't slow it down by forcing it to regenerate body parts.

But, as she watched them battle, Ladybug noticed something she hadn't before. What looked like a circle on the akuma's chest. Or _in_ its chest: an object that had been inside it all along, but impossible to see beneath the fluffy cotton candy.

So when the cotton candy had shrunk, the shape was picked out in congealed sugar. All they had to do now get it out. But she had to be fast, as Chat Noir no doubt was nearing the end of his five minutes. Ladybug summoned up her second Lucky Charm; a knife fell into her hands.

Perhaps her lack of patience had affected her power. Not a long, convoluted plan but something simple and boorish. A shooting game using bows and plunger-arrows was nearby: perfect.

"Chat!" she yelled. "I've got an idea. Hold it still!"

"Can do!" he shouted back.

Ladybug ran to the archery game and unhooked the sturdiest-looking bow from the rack. She gave it a few test tugs, then shot one of the plunger-tipped arrows to see how much thrust it generated. It would have to do. She found a roll of sticky tape beneath the booth, used by the stall-holder to hook prizes to the ceiling, and bound her knife to one of the arrows.

Loading the modified arrow onto the bow, she turned back to find the akuma running on the spot, unable to travel owing to the fact the back of its head was stuck to a pole wedged between two spokes of the Ferris wheel.

She took aim, inhaled, exhaled, then released the arrow. It surged forward, into the akuma's chest. Judging by the resulting clang, the arrow had exited through the akuma's back and crashed into the Ferris wheel.

The monster blinked stupidly then dissolved away into a disoriented young boy. Ladybug jogged past him to capture the akuma fluttering away from the stabbed object and quickly purified it. Then, with a shout of "_Miraculous Ladybug!"_ she flung the knife into the air and restored the fairground to its previous, undamaged state.

Chat Noir returned his baton to his back then held out his fist. Ladybug apathetically brought hers up to meet it, but didn't join in with his celebratory, "_Pound it!"_

"This would have been over much quicker if you hadn't been messing around," she snarked, earning a pout.

"Well, if you'd told me what the plan was before yelling at me," he grumbled, folding his arms. "I can't read your mind."

"You shouldn't have been messing around while there was an akuma!" she returned. "You're about to transform back...I'll take care of this." Her eyes flicked to the young boy, holding a tattered cap and staring at them, befuddled.

"Until next time then, Buggaboo." With what Ladybug supposed was meant to be a flirtatious smirk, Chat Noir grabbed her hand and managed to press a kiss on her knuckles before vaulting away. Ladybug groaned and wiped her hand on her leg.

"Right," she said, turning again to the boy. "Let's get you back to your parents."

* * *

It took longer than she would have liked to locate the child's parents. The Miraculous Cure had brought people rushing back to the fairground, realising the battle was over, and Ladybug figured the parents had to be somewhere amongst the crowds. With every second that passed, she was aware that Luka was down there somewhere too, looking for her.

Eventually, they found a young couple sobbing by the entrance. The woman fell to her knees and peppered kisses all over the boy's face, vowing to buy him cotton candy whenever he wanted, just as long as he promised never to scare mummy like that again!

It didn't sound like particularly good parenting, but it wasn't her place to say, so Ladybug merely waved then swung away. She found a little alleyway just outside the park and dropped her transformation.

"That was quite the battle," Tikki commented, floating lazily onto Marinette's shoulder.

"Yeah," she muttered, pulling out her phone. Another two missed calls from Luka. "Oh no…"

"You'd better go find him."

Marinette nodded. She held open her purse for Tikki, who gladly zipped into it to make use of the cookie stash, then began heading back to the fair. When her phone rang again, she answered immediately.

"Lu-"

"Marinette! Where are you? Are you okay?"

Marinette paused; she'd never heard Luka speak so fast, so panicked. "I'm fine," she said. "I'm just by the entrance. Where are you?"

"Stay there," he said. "I'll come to you."

The call disconnected. A weird sense of dread washed over Marinette as she waited for Luka to arrive. What would she tell him? How would she explain her absence?

No time to think. Luka was charging across the grass towards her, face pale, hair dishevelled. Marinette didn't have time to even speak as he swept her up into a tight embrace, arms winding around her back like a boa constrictor, lifting her clean off the ground, face pressed into her neck.

Marinette looped her arms around his shoulders, gasping when his grip tightened and she found herself unable to breathe. Just as she thought her ribs would crack, he let go. The relief on his face dissolved into anger.

"Where did you go?" he all but shouted, surprising her, making her flinch. "Why the _hell_ did you run off like that?"

Marinette swallowed thickly. "I—the crowd, I got pulled away."

"I tried phoning you _so_ many times!" His voice broke. "Why didn't you answer?"

"I...my phone died?"

"You answered just now!"

Marinette bit her bottom lip and dropped her gaze. She tried to swallow again by her mouth was dry. "I'm sorry," she whispered, shutting her eyes.

She waited for him to yell again. If he was angry at her before—and Marinette didn't blame him—he must've been furious now. But instead of shouting, she felt him gently grasp her hands. She opened her eyes as he traced little circles over her knuckles. His hands trembled.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. His eyes dimmed, like blown-out candles. "I shouldn't have yelled like that. I just...you disappeared and then I couldn't get a hold of you and I was so _worried_. And that akuma looked really dangerous; it completely trashed the fair, and…" He shook his head; his body seemed to crumple and his grip on her hands loosened. "That was no excuse to yell at you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Marinette. I—"

His voice quivered, and Marinette realised that he was on the verge of tears. She stepped forward and guided his head to her shoulder, tangled her fingers in his hair. His hands were clammy on her back, holding her desperately as though he was afraid she would suddenly disappear.

"I'm sorry," he said again like a mantra. "I promise, I'll never yell again. Please, just don't—"

A shuddering breath against her neck made her shiver. Marinette stroked his head, feeling like she was about to cry herself. It was almost frightening to see him so fragile, so broken. So scared. She didn't know what he was asking her not to do. Don't run off like that? Don't _not _answer the phone? Don't—

"Don't leave me," he whispered.

"I won't," she whispered back, kissing the side of his head, just above his ear. "I won't."


	16. Day Sixteen: Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wings, in which Luka comes around for dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for breaking hearts last chapter... I hope you'll forgive me. I hope you'll forgive me for this one too!
> 
> Short chapter now. This one changed a lot. Initially it was meant to be a cute, fluffy, if slightly sappy one. Instead, this happened. Whoops. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Note: Make sure you read Day Fifteen too! I uploaded both today a couple of hours apart. 
> 
> Thanks for all your continued support! :)

**Day Sixteen: Wings**

As a rule, Luka didn't care for dressing up.

He frowned at his reflection and tugged at his shirt. It wasn't nearly as nice as the one Marinette had made for him, which currently resided in one of the storage rooms as it was the only place he could hang it up without fearing it would become crumpled or dirty. But this shirt—a green one he'd picked up from a charity shop on Monday afternoon—didn't fit as well across the shoulders, and it bunched slightly awkwardly on the sleeves. But it was better than one of his graphic t-shirts.

And so, Luka had to make an amendment to his rule. He didn't care for dressing up, unless Marinette was involved. Specifically, unless her _parents _were involved. Because although she didn't care what he wore, which he was grateful for, he wanted to impress her parents. He'd met them before, yes, but not as her boyfriend.

Not that he expected them to demand she break up with him because he was wearing the wrong sort of clothes. In fact, he expected they would have the same opinion about clothes as their daughter did, but that didn't mean he didn't want to make the effort to impress them.

He had thought about wearing the shirt Marinette made for him, but decided it was perhaps a little _too_ formal.

After all, it was only dinner.

And so, dressed in his plain, charity shop shirt and black jeans, Luka grabbed the box of chocolates and phone—displaying an akuma alert for the other side of the city—from his desk and headed out into the spring evening.

* * *

Twenty-five minutes later, Luka found himself sitting at a table, flanked by Marinette's parents. He had a pick in his pocket, and hooked a thumb inside to fidget with it as they waited for Marinette to emerge from her room.

"So," Tom Dupain said. His hands were on the table and he was twiddling his thumbs. "Music, eh? Is that what you're hoping to go into?"

"Well, it's my passion," Luka replied. He dug the pick's edge into the pad of his thumb. "It's the only thing I've ever been good at it. Well, good at that I liked. I was pretty good at languages too, but that's probably because Ma brought me up learning English as well as French."

"Is she English?" Sabine asked.

"Scottish," he replied. "Half. She was born near Loch Lomond."

"Have you ever been?"

"No. I'd like to, though. Maybe when I've finished school. Travelling's cheaper during term-time."

"Very frugal," Sabine commented, but she was smiling. Impressed, perhaps. Or he hoped, anyway. "I'd love to go back to China, take Tom and Marinette with me. But it's a long journey and it's difficult enough persuading Tom to close the bakery for more than a few days at a time."

"Because if we close it for too long, people will start going somewhere else for their bread," Tom pointed out. "And then they might not come back."

"I don't know," Luka said. "Everyone knows this is the best bakery in the area. Maybe even the whole of Paris."

Tom's booming laugh clashed with Sabine's quiet tittering, like a violin on timpani drums.

"You know why that is?" said Tom. "Because we never close for more than a week."

Just then, the door was flung open and Marinette skidded into the room, looking slightly out of breath. Her skirt was pale blue, with a second, gauzy outer layer, and a white blouse. "I'm here!" she yelped. "Sorry, I got caught up, err, cleaning?"

"You sure you weren't napping?" Sabine teased, standing up. "I'll go and bring in dinner then. You sit down."

Sabine disappeared into the kitchen, giggling quietly. Marinette hurried across the room to her seat, but stopped next to Luka to kiss his cheek. "I'm sorry. Papa hasn't been interrogating you, has he?"

"I wouldn't interrogate our guest!" Tom exclaimed, an offended hand across his chest.

Marinette laughed. "Sure, papa."

Luka let go of the pick and laid his hands on the table. "I like this," he said, nodding at her skirt. "Is it new?"

"Yeah, I finished it today." She grinned and twirled; the gauzy layer floated up like a cloud. "Took ages to get it to sit properly…"

"What's on the back of your shirt?"

Marinette turned again, this time stopping so her back was to him. Embroidered on her back was a pair of pink, feathered wings. "Wings. Isn't it cute? Alya gave it to me."

"It's lovely, Marinette." Tom smiled, clapping his hands together, looking utterly beguiled by his daughter. "Papa's little angel!"

On the one hand, it was heart-warming to see a man possessing so much love for his daughter. But on the other hand…

Luka shook his head and matched Tom's smile. He wouldn't be surprised if he had the same beguiled look too. "Angel," he said. "It suits you. I wouldn't be surprised if you had a pair of real wings under there."

Marinette flushed, and for a moment Luka was worried he'd gone too far. Talking about what was _under _her clothes, and in front of her _father_. But to his relief she grinned.

"You must have a pair of wings under there too," she said.

"I don't know. More likely a pair of horns under this." He nodded his head, flipping his hair.

She snorted. "I find that hard to believe," she replied.

But he didn't. If she knew what he was capable of, if she knew whose blood ran through his veins, she wouldn't see angel wings on his back. She'd see the devil in his eyes.

* * *

Dinner went well when Sabine returned. The food—delicious, unsurprising for professional bakers—was demolished fairly quickly, and after a light dessert of meringue, cream, and peaches, Sabine brought in a Chinese tea pot and a set of dainty, handle-less cups. As she placed one cup before each chair, Tom opened the box of chocolates Luka had brought to pass around.

Luka wasn't generally a tea drinker, but he felt it was rude to refuse. He figured he could always drown it in milk and sugar if need be, but the liquid Sabine poured in his cup was paler than black tea, greener. It smelt different, too. Fresher, more like leaves than hot water.

"I hope it's okay, dear," she said, sitting back down. "It's a Chinese green tea. Baimao Hou. I met a man, Wu Fang, the other day who told me about a little Chinese shop and I couldn't help but stock up."

Marinette choked on her tea suddenly, but waved her father away before he could start patting her back. Probably wise, Luka thought, eyeing Tom's trunk-like arms.

"I'm fine," she croaked. "Just went down the wrong tube."

She coughed a couple of times, cleared her throat, then sipped her tea again. Once, Luka might have been surprised, but one thing you learned quickly about Marinette was that she recovered fast. So, after flashing her a quick smile which she returned, he looked back at his tea.

Green tea, if Luka remembered correctly, didn't go with milk and sugar. So he picked up the cup and sipped it. The tea was feather-soft, surprisingly pleasant. Delicate, airy.

Before he knew it, he'd finished the entire cup.

He could still taste it a while later, when Marinette was walking him out of the apartment, her fingers entwined through his. And he could taste it on her lips when she kissed him in the doorway.

"I hope they didn't ask anything too awkward," she said. "Last time they invited a boy around, it was Chat Noir, and papa started asking him all these questions about if he wanted to be a baker and if he liked hamsters."

"Hamsters?"

She giggled, turning her face away. "Yeah. I used to have this dream about having three kids and a hamster when I'm older."

"Used to?"

"Well…" The smile fell, replaced by something like shame or embarrassment. "There was more to the dream than that. And, when part of it fell away, it felt wrong to keep the rest, you know?"

He didn't. Then again, he didn't know what it was like to have an attainable dream like children and a hamster. All of his were impossibly big: to be a famous guitarist; go on world tours with Jagged Stone, have enough money to buy Ma that boat she once saw, big enough to sail back to Scotland whenever she wanted.

Or they were dreams snatched away before he could want them.

Those ones hurt more.

But, he nodded, and said, "I get it. But, you know, there's a difference between wants and dreams. Wants are the foundation, dreams are a little more specific. So your dream was three kids with, say, blue eyes, called Pierre, Paul and Jacques."

"Hugo, Louis and Emma," she interjected.

"That dream might be gone, but you can still want kids. Your dream was a white hamster called Anton—"

"—I never actually picked a name—"

"But you can still want a hamster. Or a pet."

"I guess," she said, fidgeting with his hand. "Do you have wants like that?"

"Wants? Like a family?"

"Yeah."

Luka paused. He stared at his hand, her pale, dainty fingers dancing across his palm. It was difficult to crave that sort of connection when your whole life was spent on a boat, always moving up and down on the waves, moored but never still. Maybe that's why his dreams were so un-tethered: fame, constant travel, giving Ma the freedom she craved.

All but that one dream. But the less he thought about it, the better.

Luka felt something in his chest, like an ache, or a hole. A chasm, and the bridge had just fallen in. And suddenly Marinette seemed far away, and her fingers on his hand were a ghost's, and her smile was an echo from a forgotten memory.

Another impossible dream, snatched before he wanted it.

Luka shrugged. "It's not something I've thought about," he said. "Anyway, as much as I'd love to stay here with you all night, I don't think your parents would approve."

"Oh, right." Marinette let go of his hand and leaned up to kiss his cheek. "I'll let you go then. Goodnight, Luka."

"Goodnight, angel," he replied, and smiled at the way she blushed. He bent down to press a chaste kiss to her lips, but she looped her arms around his neck and held his head in place. One hand crept up, into his hair, across his head, into his fringe.

Then she laughed into his lips and pulled away, keeping one hand in his hair. "See," she said with a sly smirk. "No horns. You must be an angel."

The chasm in his heart grew a little wider.


	17. Day Seventeen: Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Protection, in which Marinette and Luka go to Notre Dame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a bit late. I was in London all day (like a true Briton) and didn't have time to write until this evening. Literally cranked this out in about two hours, so apologies for any grammar mistakes and typos. I'll try to fix them tomorrow. 
> 
> Thanks for your continued support, both for this fic and for the Protect Luka Squad.

**Day Seventeen: Protection**

"Stay close, Marinette," Luka whispered, his hand tightening around hers as they edged around the Southern side of Notre Dame. Darkness swirled around like swaths of black velvet, curling around their feet, around their necks. Silence soaked the air. Each breath was a viola's sigh, each heartbeat a staccato cello, each footstep a metronome's click.

They hadn't seen the akuma, not yet. Just heard the screams inside the Cathedral, seen the black mist. But they knew it was nearby, knew it was _here. _They could feel it in the air, in the pricking of hair on their arms, in the ice in their veins. And, whispered on the breeze, a voice, ragged and broken.

"_I'll make you afraid, I'll make you scream for the light, I'll make you pay."_

Luka stopped, stepped in front of Marinette, passing her hand between his and grasping the other. She stood squarely behind him, his body a shield to whatever he'd seen, and tried to peek over his shoulder.

"Luka?"

"Stay behind me," he murmured. "I think it's here."

A chill ran up her spin, prickling the back of her neck. Marinette highered herself to the tips of her toes, but there was nothing in front of Luka. Just grass, swirling darkness, Notre Dame's decaying walls. And yet, there was something. Something unseen, just before them. She could almost see it smirking.

"_Let's see what you're afraid of…"_.

The darkness thickened, grew. Tendrils snaked into Marinette's eyes, staining the world black. Luka's hands felt sweaty around her own, and slipped across her fingers when he tried to hold her tighter.

"Don't let go," he whispered. "I'll protect you. Just don't let go."

But already, Marinette could feel Tikki desperately pawing at her leg, and something cold seeping into her skin, into her mind, as though the mist itself had invaded her being. Emptying her…

Except not emptying her, filling her with something else. Something like...dread. Shame. A sort of hopelessness, like she'd just flunked an important test, or missed the last train home, or forgotten to complete a commission for someone, or had been unable to keep a promise, or failed to save someone, failed to save an akuma victim, failed, _failed…._

"_Marinette!" _Tikki hissed. "_You have to go!"_

Marinette blinked rapidly, but still she could only see impermeable darkness. She breathed. Once, twice. She _hadn't_ failed. Not _yet. _No tests, no trains, no commissions. No promises…

"_Don't let go_," she remembered him saying. "_I'll protect you. Don't let go."_

But she had let go, had broken the promise. Her hands were empty, cold, clutched nothing. And Luka...

"I can't!" Marinette gasped. "Luka, he…"

"You need to transform, Marinette," said Tikki sadly. "He'll be okay, but Paris won't be if you don't become Ladybug."

"_Marinette!_"

It was Luka. His voice cracked.

"_Marinette! _I'm sorry. Please come back…_please. _I won't do it again, I promise. Just please...please come back…"

She had to bite her lips together to stop from calling back, stop from running out with her arms wide to find him. To brush aside the tears she could hear in his cries.

But Tikki was nudging her leg again. She had no choice but to run blindly the other way, eyes squeezed shut around her own tears, her lips echoing his apologies.

"Will it get easier?" She choked on the words. "Like it got lying to Alya? And maman and papa?"

Tikki's silence said enough.

She ran until she felt Tikki's body press into her stomach. "Now, Marinette," she said.

Marinette nodded. She turned her face back to where she knew she'd left Luka, still stumbling, still calling, and sighed. "I'll protect you, Luka," she said. "Spots On."

* * *

Tikki's magic had always felt like a _relief_ when she wore it. Like another layer of skin, strong and intuitive and _alive._ The relief it brought now was greater. With a flash of pink, the blackness melted away and revealed the world. She was still by the Cathedral, in a little spot between a few trees. The black mist was weaker her, like strands of night, woven too early into the sky.

Ladybug cast her mind back to her encounter with the akuma, but she hadn't seen it. Only heard it, felt it. But not see. Did it have a corporeal form? If not, that would make defeating it very difficult. Impossible, perhaps.

And what exactly were its powers? Taking away one's sights seemed a little...strange. "_Let's see what you're afraid of_," the akuma had said. But not everyone was afraid of the dark.

"Good afternoon, Milady. I didn't miss anything, did I?"

Chat Noir. He was above her, sitting in a tree, smirking as usual. However, the smirk quickly slipped from his face as he dropped down beside her.

"Is something wrong?"

"No," she said. "Just...this akuma. It's...it's going to be trouble."

"How so?" he asked. "Strong?"

"I don't know. But it's slippery." She waved a hand through a tendril of black mist, watched it waft like an upset cloud. "It doesn't seem to have a body. And it uses this stuff to blind you."

"What's the plan then?"

Ladybug shook her head. "I don't have one. I don't know what we're going to do."

"Lucky Charm and hope for a vacuum cleaner?"

She managed a short, humorless laugh. "That's not how it works."

"Yeah, I know." Chat Noir swiped at the mist then, after watching it roll around like wind and smoke, he leant forward as though sniffing it. "Where even is the akuma? Haven't seen it at all yet."

"Neither have I. Let's go and find it."

"Lead on, Ladybug."

Ladybug hurried back to where she'd left Luka, down one side of the Cathedral. But no one was there. No Luka, no akuma, nothing. Just thick fog and a strange feeling of despair. She waited a few seconds for the voice to speak. But it didn't. Nothing. It was gone.

"If it doesn't have a body is, how will we find it?" Chat Noir asked. "We can't fight something we can't find."

"You're right," she said. "We're going to need help...Lucky Charm!"

A jar fell into her hands.

"You gonna catch the akuma in that?" Chat Noir quipped, peering at the glass.

"Hmmm…" Frowning, Ladybug glanced around the area, but nothing sprang to mind. "Let's go inside," she said. "I think that's where the akuma is hiding."

The nearest door was locked, so they had to run around the Cathedral until they found a working entrance. Unsurprisingly, it was black inside. But, Ladybug was pleased to see when she waved her hands in front of her face, not as dark as it had been. She could still see; the darkness hadn't filled her eyes again.

"We must be getting close," she said, wishing she could see just a little more, if not for anything than to find inspiration for her Lucky Charm. As much as she hated to admit it, she was struggling to come up with another use for the jar than a glorified shadow-snatcher.

But that wasn't right. She knew it deep within. That wasn't right.

"_There you are. Ladybug, Chat Noir…"_ said the akuma. Its voice floated and echored around her head. "_I'm afraid I'm going to need something of yours. Your earrings and ring."_

"Not a chance," said Chat Noir. She could hear the swish of a baton being swung. "What's your deal then? _Monsieur Shadow_."

"_My name is Mind Recesses,"_ the akuma hissed. "_Now give me your Miraculous! Or live through your own nightmare."_

"Hawkmoth is running out of new villains," Chat Noir commented, chuckling. "This one's basically Sandboy all over again. What were you afraid of? The dark?"

Ladybug frowned. Nightmare? Afraid? Sandboy had created a physical fear, by taking away her powers, by forming a Ladybug that hated Chat Noir, by conjuring an Adrien crooning his love for Chloe. But Mind Recesses hadn't done that. He'd taken away their vision, cut them off from the physical world. A different sort of fear, then. One in the mind.

She remembered the feeling of failure, the feeling of shame, and it all clicked. He didn't show them their nightmare, give them something to run away from. He changed their minds, trapped them with their emotional fears, psychological nightmares. More complicated than Sandboy's, more devastating.

"_Marinette! I'm sorry. please come back."_

Those had been his words. Is that what he was truly afraid of? Losing her?

Ladybug felt her heart convulse with a nauseating shame. He was afraid of her leaving him…

And that's exactly what she'd done.

Ladybug rubbed her thumb across the lip of the jar. Just what was she supposed to do with it? Especially when she couldn't see anything in the Cathedral. Just black, black, black, hazy purple, black…

Her eyes jolted up to a paler patch, back to the jar, then to Chat Noir. She grinned.

"I've got an idea, Chat," she murmured. "Wait for my signal."

"How will I see it?"

"Oh, you'll see it." She nudged him with her elbow then sprang away towards the pale patch. She could hear Chat Noir speaking again, no doubt taunting the akuma by way of distraction whilst Ladybug struggled her way to the top of the room.

She couldn't see where she was aiming her yo-yo, or if there was even anything to loop the string around, but luck was on her side and she soon made it to the magnificent, stained-glass window that had become famous around the world. It was dark, obscured by the velvety mist, but some light was filtering through. She just needed a little more…

Silently apologising Paris, Ladybug punched the window. Glass tinkled down, and a shaft of golden light struggled into the dark Cathedral. She held the jar up to the hole, catching the light which was magnified by the glass. A stronger beam shot into the room, cutting easily through the murk.

Finally, with the beam caught a hazy figure. He'd always been there, a cloaked figure, completely black, blending in with the shadows. Not that finding the akuma meant they'd found the object, but with Mind Recesses powers so long-range, and his costume so impractical, Ladybug figured he wasn't up to hand-to-hand combat.

She swung the jar a little to one side to find Chat Noir's face, waited for him to flinch and look at her, then returned the beam to the akuma. Moments later, to her relief, the figure crumbled, and a little purple butterfly flapped furiously in the hazy sunlight. Ladybug quickly snatched it up in her yo-yo, and released it—purified—through the hole in the window. Then she threw her jar into the air and called for the Miraculous Cure.

Immediately, the darkness in the room vanished, the window repaired, the hooded figure dissolved into a frail young man. Ladybug swung back down to join him and Chat Noir.

"Nice signal, Milady," Chat Noir said. "_Dazzling_, just like you."

"Oh, har har." She rolled her eyes then held up her fist.

He smiled, brought his fist up to meet hers. "Pound it!"

"Now, for you…" Ladybug turned to the frail young man, clad in an oversized hoodie and dark jeans. He flinched.

"I'm sorry, Ladybug," he mumbled. "I just... These guys I know, and I just—"

"It's okay: I don't blame you. Here, I want you to take this." Ladybug extracted from her yo-yo a small business card and handed it to the young man. "Please, talk to her. I hope she can help you."

The man took the card with slightly quivering fingers. "I—thank you, Ladybug, Chat Noir."

Ladybug smiled. "I have to go," she said. "There's something I have to do...Chat Noir, can you make sure he gets home okay?"

"Of course, Milady." Chat Noir swept an invisible hat from his head and bowed deeply. "See you next time."

"See you next time."

* * *

The Miraculous Cure came and went, taking with it the debilitating darkness, and the voices in his head, and the bruises on his knuckles, but Luka didn't look up. He didn't uncurl his arms around his knees, didn't lift his head, didn't open his eyes.

Because the voices never really stopped, and he could still feel blood under his nails and the screams hoarse in his throat.

It was a silly notion, trying to protect Marinette. Brave, strong, determined Marinette who didn't _need _protecting. Silly notion thinking she'd need him. Thinking she'd even _want _to need him. Fiery, head-strong, stubborn Marinette who never wanted to stay with him during an akuma attack, who didn't trust him to help her, or didn't want him to.

Marinette, who was _afraid_ to be with him when emotions ran high?

Marinette who flinched when he yelled, nearly cried when she apologised, tried to placate him afterwards.

"Luka! _Luka!"_

He imagined her sprinting around the side of the Cathedral, voice cracked with desperation. With a thump, she fell to her knees next to him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, pressing her head next to his.

"Are you okay?" she whispered. "Luka? Please, tell me you're okay."

He couldn't, he didn't. He inclined his head closer to hers until her cheek was pressed against hers. His hands were fisted beneath his bent knees, palms sweaty, nails aching.

The darkness had gone, but it lingered in his mind.


	18. Day Eighteen: Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories, in which Marinette hates studying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next instalment for you guys! I'm sorry for ripping hearts out last chapter: not my intention, I promise! (well, maybe slightly...) And I'm sorry if I rip more out this chapter too...
> 
> Enjoy...?

**Day Eighteen: Memories**

Life had entered a strange stage were nothing felt...right.

Spring was well and truly upon them now, and with spring came exams. Very important exams. Exams that would make or break their chances of getting into their preferred lycée.

Although for most of the class this meant the nearby lycée, the general one which offered a wide range of classes and subjects, a few students were hoping to be accepted into the arts lycée near the Louvre.

Among these was Marinette. And even though the lycée put more stock in students' portfolios and artistry, they still needed good marks to stand a chance at getting in. And so, with final exams fast approaching—where had the school year gone?—Marinette spent most of her free time holed up in her room, or the library, or at a park bench, studying. She only stopped to eat, to go to class, to defeat akumas, and occasionally to sleep.

It struck her, one afternoon in the library as resisted the urge to slam her face into a maths book, that she hadn't stopped to see Luka.

When _was _the last time she'd seen him? They'd texted at least a couple of times a day, usually in the evening to say goodnight. And she'd been around to the boat a few times to drop off a box of macarons, or to help Juleka with her history revision. But Luka was busy himself preparing for his exams, and as his exams involved practical assessments, a lot of his time was spent on his guitar, playing complicated tunes and riffs until his fingers bled.

But when was the last time they'd hung out, or been on a date? The last outing she could think of had been to Notre Dame when they'd been meandering around. When Mind Recesses had attacked, and Marinette felt the true weight of her responsibility as Ladybug. Of the rift that responsibility might cause. Might have already caused.

The thought made her feel sick.

Usually, he would be the one to suggest things, to initiate meet-ups, to pull her head up before she drowned in her work. Because her mind was like a tunnel: focused on one goal, blind to everything else. But Luka's was like a boat on the ocean: broad horizons, endless directions.

But since that day at Notre Dame, he'd pulled back. Maybe he was still feeling the effects, but Juleka said he was just tired. Maybe he was upset she'd abandoned him again, but he hadn't commented on it. Maybe he didn't love her as much as he used to.

She didn't have counter for that.

"How's that algebra coming along?"

Marinette jumped and dropped her book which landed with an impressive _thud _on the table. Alya stood behind her, one eyebrow arched, arm-in-arm with a giggling Lila.

"I hope we're not disturbing you, Marinette," Lila simpered. "You need to do really well on these tests to get into your lycée, don't you?"

Another oddity: Lila being nice to her.

Perhaps not _nice._ But she certainly put up an act whenever someone else was around. Not that Marinette ever sought out Lila on her own, or that she ever sought Lila out. But whenever the girl was around, instead of ignoring her as she usually did, Lila went out of her way to say something nice to Marinette, a facade of friendliness. It wasn't just for show, either. Lila knew what she was doing. The friendliness gave Marinette's claims of Lila's lies seem even more bitter because Lila was so _nice _and was so clearly _trying _to be her friend and Marinette was still being so _horrible…_

She knew because she'd heard Sabrina telling Chloé.

Marinette had very mixed feelings about Chloé's dismissive huff and reply of, "Lila's _not _nice."

Still, she made herself smile at Lila and Alya and nodded. "Yeah…"

"I'm surprised you have time revise when you have a boyfriend to juggle as well. But...you haven't been seeing him much lately, huh."

Marinette narrowed her gaze. "How would you know?"

"She's just concerned, Marinette. Chill." Alya rolled her eyes then tugged on lila's arm. "Come on, let's leave her to it. Remember, we've got class in ten minutes, Marinette."

They left, but a few seconds later Lila returned. Alone. She sat down opposite Marinette, chin resting on her fingers.

"Still fighting against me, I see," she commented. "But less now. I told you I'd crush your spirit, take your friends, isolate you."

"You haven't isolated me," Marientte spat. "I still have friends."

"For now. And if you want to keep it that way, then stop trying to be 'noble' and 'expose' me or whatever." Lila huffed and folded her arms.

Marinette scowled. "No. I won't stop fighting for the truth."

"Then I won't stop fighting you. You want a tip?"

"What?"

A dangerous look spread across Lila's face; her eyes glittered like broken glass. "Break up with that musician of yours."

"Break up with Luka?" Marinette echoed, confused. She shook her head. "No. Why would I do that?"

"Because it's a lot less painful breaking up with someone than it is being dumped."

"You think he's going to dump me?"

"Oh, I know he is." Lila smirked. "I'll make him hate you."

Marinette snorted and picked up her maths book again. "Yeah, right. He doesn't believe your lies, Lila."

"He will."

"Do your worst."

"With pleasure."

Lila stood up and left. Marinette looked back at her book, but her eyes weren't seeing. She read words but she wasn't understanding them. Instead, worry trickled through her mind. Luka wouldn't believe Lila, of course he wouldn't. He hadn't in the past, and he wouldn't now.

So why was she so worried?

* * *

By the end of the school day, Marinette wanted to scream.

Lila was as good as her word. Somehow, over the span of two lessons, she had spread a rumour that Marinette was only dating Luka as a rebound after Adrien rejected her. And that they were having problems because Marinette's heart had never been in the relationship, that she was just using him as an emotional crutch with no concern for his own feelings.

And, because her classmates were idiots, they believed it. Some more so than others. Nathaniel believed she was having relationship issues, but wasn't convinced Luka was a rebound. Rose thought maybe the rebound could be true, but couldn't see Marinette using Luka like that. Kim believed it all shamelessly, and made some scathing remark about her lack of a heart.

And Alya…

Alya seemed to be having a crisis, and didn't speak to her for the rest of the day.

At least Juleka was on her side, and squeezed her hand reassuringly on the way out of class at the end of the day.

Usually, Marinette would go straight home to pull out revision notes and try to memorise dates in French history while cleaning her room. But today, she walked home with Juleka.

As usual, Luka was in his room. With a surge of déjà vu, Marinette edged into the room and found him meditating on the bed, legs crossed, fingers pinched and resting on his knees. She wondered if, like the first time they'd met, he already knew she was there.

Or not, because when she sat down next to him, the resulting squeak of the bed springs made him jump.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to startle you…"

"That's okay, Marinette." He smiled at her, but it was a little strained, a little empty. "Are you okay?"

"I guess. It's just...ugh!" She fell sideways, plunging her face into the mattress, and groaned again in a dramatic fashion.

She heard Luka chuckle and felt him gently stroke the back of her head. "What happened?"

"Lila," she said, but the mattress swallowed her words so she sat up and repeated. "Lila. She's at it again with her ridiculous stories. This afternoon she spread a rumour that I'm only dating you as a rebound from my crush on Adrien, and that—" Marinette stopped herself short. She didn't want to voice the possible reality of issues in their relationship. "And people believe her! Not everyone this time, but enough. And—can you believe this—she threatened to isolate me again if I don't break up with you. As if I'm going to do that!"

She shook her head and twisted her body around so her back was to the wall and she was facing Luka. But instead of laughing, as she expected, or making some witticism about the situation, he just sat there, contemplative. Maybe a little sad.

"Luka?" she said, nudging him with her foot. "You...don't think you're just a rebound, do you?"

"No..." he replied, but she didn't like the way his voice flicked up slightly at the end, as though 'no' wasn't the full story. As though there was a bit of 'yes' in that no, or even just a 'but'. 'No, but I see why people think that.' 'No, but sometimes it feels like that.' 'No, but maybe we should break up anyway.'

"Is something wrong?" she asked. She could feel the nervousness trembling in her throat. "I know maybe I haven't been the best girlfriend lately, and I've been too focused on my studies, but I'll try harder. We can hang out this afternoon if you're not busy? I've missed you."

It was a nasty shock when he shifted his gaze to look at her, and she saw pain in his eyes. "Something is wrong," he said. "I'm wrong. This is wrong. I—we…" He shut his eyes, swallowed. "I can't give you what you want."

Marinette stared at him. Her heart stuttered. Why did this sound like a break up? "What?" she asked, hoping—praying—it wasn't.

"What you want," he repeated "I can't give it to you. I can't...I can't have it. I'm sorry, but—"

"Wait," she interjected. Because she knew it was coming now and she couldn't let him say it. Because once he said it, those words would be out and real and everything would have _changed_. And not in a way she wanted. "Don't."

"I'm sorry, Marinette."

She shook her head again; her pony tails bounced on her neck. "I don't understand." she said. "What do you mean you can't give me what I want? What I want is _you."_

He flinched—_flinched_—and turned his body away, curling in on himself. "I'm not a good person," he murmured.

"Of course you're a good person."

"I'm not. My father wasn't a good man and—"

"Y-your father?" Marinette blinked, furrowed her brow. He'd never spoken about his father. What had brought this up? "It doesn't matter if your father was a good man or not. You _are."_

"What if I hurt you?" He looked at her now; his eyes were darker, filled with shadows. "What if...what if in the future we—we had a kid? I…" His sigh shuddered. "I'd hurt them too," he whispered.

"No you wouldn't."

"I might!" he bit back. "You don't know the things my father was capable of. The things he did. What if I turn out like him?"

"But you won't," she replied. "Luka, you are the sweetest, kindest person I know. You would never hurt anyone."

"I hurt you."

"You…" Marinette frowned. "When?"

"I—" he faltered. Then, ashamed, "I yelled at you."

"I don't remember."

"We were at the fair. I yelled at you and you—you looked just like ma used to."

Like ma used to? Did that mean… She blinked hard; not the time. "At the fair…" she repeated, trying to think back. "You mean after the cotton candy akuma? Luka, that was ages ago. You were mad; I don't blame you. I was an idiot and you were worried. You're not a bad person because of that."

"You're not an idiot, Marinette," he said quickly, startled. "See, I made you think you were. That's hurting you too."

"But you _didn't _make me think I was an idiot." Marinette leaned forward to touch his knee, but he shied away from her. I _know _I was an idiot because I ran off and made you worry. If anything, _I _was the bad person."

"Marinette, please." He sounded agonised. "You're making this harder than it has to be."

"Good," she snapped. "I'm not letting you go without a fight, Luka. You're not going to hurt me. No offence, but you couldn't even hurt a _fly _if you wanted to."

"Now, maybe," he said. He looked away again, curled his knees against his chest, locked his wrists around his legs. "But what if I just...snap?" he mumbled, mouth against his jeans. "Lose control? There's a reason I meditate every day. I have to keep whatever's inside me down. Got to keep my father down."

"Luka, that's not going to happen."

"Everyone loses control at some point."

"Yeah, you did too. Remember Silencer?" Marinette asked, regretting it instantly as Luka winced.

"I remember it happened," he murmured.

Marinette bit her didn't want to bring up the memory; victims rarely wanted to talk about their akumatisation. And yet...

"When you were Silencer," she said quietly, "you were the least violent akuma I've ever met. You didn't try to hurt anyone, just bring justice. Protect me. Even when you lost control to the most evil man in Paris, you couldn't—wouldn't—hurt anyone."

Luka was quiet for a moment, mulling this over. He lifted his head slightly, and Marinette hoped it was with realisation or hope, but his eyes were still dark with pain. "That's not true. I did hurt you. I said something."

"What?"

"Afterwards," he clarified. "You said I told you something when I was Silencer and…" He trailed off, shoulders slumping. But when she laughed, he looked sharply back at her.

"Luka…" She smiled; it felt wrong on her mouth. "You told me the same thing you said later as yourself."

"What?"

"You know…" Marinette flushed and fidgeted her fingers. "_Clear as a music note, sincere as a melody…_"

"_The music that's been playing in my head since the day we met,_" he finished. And finally, _finally_, his eyes lightened and he didn't look quite so lost and hopeless. "That's what I said?"

Marinette's smile softened, felt right. "Don't you see, Luka? You're not a bad person. You aren't _capable _of being a bad person."

But she knew he still didn't accept it because he hugged his legs tighter, the shadows grew in his eyes again. She wanted nothing more than to hold him in her arms, to chase away his demons, stroke his hair until he remembered how to smile.

"When we were at Notre Dame," he said suddenly. He pulled at his jeans, yanking on the loose threads in the rips. Marinette silently leaned across to his desk and found a plectrum which she dropped next to him. He picked it up to fidget with as he continued. "There was that dark mist. I...saw things, felt things, _did _things. To ma, to Juleka, to _you. _I can't take that chance. I'm sorry, but—"

Marinette shook her head, dug her fingers into the mattress. Her heart punched her ribs. "Luka, don't do this," she whispered. Her voice cracked. "Please. Luka, I _love _you."

He whimpered, clasped his hands over his face. "Don't say that," he mumbled.

Lips drawn tight, Marinette clambered across the bed. She gently grasped his hands and prised them away from his face. "I love you," she said again, smiling when his eyes glimmered. She felt tears collect in her own and placed her palm on his cheek. "Luka, I love you."

"Damn it, Marinette," he hissed, but brought his hand to hers, holding it on his face, leaning into it. He blinked hard, spread tears before they called fall, but one managed to escape and ran down to the tip of her finger. "I love you too."

"Then stay."

He slumped; the tension left his body like a sigh. Luka turned his head to kiss her palm. "Promise me something," he said. "If...if I ever hurt you. Even once. Promise you'll leave. You'll go. You'll take everything—kids, if we have them—and you'll go far away."

"If you promise me something," she replied. She removed her hand from his face and picked up her purse from the ground. After rooting around, she pulled out a card and offered it to him. "Promise me you'll phone this number, talk to her."

Luka accepted the card and flipped it over. "Who's this?"

"She's a therapist. Chat Noir and Ladybug suggest her to akuma victims sometimes. It's on the Ladyblog too. She specialises in trauma and PTSD, and she began offering free therapy sessions to people to help stop akumatisations." She smiled and wrapped her hands around his, curling his fingers around the card. "Please, Luka. I want to help you, and I promise I will do everything I can, but you need more than me. Please, at least talk to her."

His face crumpled. Disappointed, perhaps. Or ashamed. "There _is _something wrong with me," he said. "You can see it too."

Her sharp intake of breath was like ice in her lungs. "Not like that," she said. "There _is _something...wrong. But it's not that you're a bad person. It's that you've been hurt. I just, I don't want you to hurt anymore. I want you to get better, to move past this. I...I want _you_. I don't want you to leave me because you're afraid you'll do something that I know you'd never do. To me or...or anyone else. I love you."

She withdrew her hand and he uncurled his fist, stared at the paper. Then he pursed his lips and nodded. "Will you come with me?"

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes. I...I need you with me."

"Then I'll be with you," she said. "Always."

* * *

Marinette didn't leave for some time. When Luka had managed to pull himself together and rub his eyes dry, she'd arranged the blanket and pillows into a nest. Luka settled next to her, and allowed his head to be guided onto her lap where she stroked his hair and hummed little tunes under her breath.

He was exhausted. The mental fatigue had seemed into his body, rendering him unable to do anything but lie there, idly tracing shapes on Marinette's ankle, trying not to fall asleep. He knew she wouldn't mind if he fell asleep, she might even welcome it, but he didn't want to. He didn't want to miss any moment with her. With the girl who somehow managed to love him despite…

Despite everything.

He swallowed thickly. A guilty flower bloomed in his heart. She didn't deserve to be put through this, to be subject to his issues, to be endangered by something he would become.

_Could_ become, he reminded himself. She had faith he was good; he would match that faith with his own.

But still, he shouldn't have told her he loved her. Should have known that the moment those words left his heart she would take it as an incentive to stay.

And yet…

The card with the therapist's number was sitting on his desk, propped against a stack of music books. When he glanced up at Marinette, she had her eyes closed, still humming. A tune he recognised. Played on Heartstrings.

The chasm in his heart felt a little smaller.


	19. Day Nineteen: Faded Ink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faded ink, in which Marinette and Luka go for milkshakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note before we start. I am not a psychologist or a therapist. Any mentions of therapy are based on Google searches; please do not take any of it as legit medical advice because this is the wrong place to get that from. Not that I expect anyone reads fanfiction for medical advice, but still...
> 
> As always, thank you for all of your support and kind comments.

**Day Nineteen: Faded Ink**

"_Why do you think you'll become your father?"_

"_How could I not? I read that people who were abused as a child are more likely to become abusers later in life."_

"_Not all. Childhood trauma from domestic abuse can create abusers, but only if that child has normalised that abusive relationship. Do you think it's a normal relationship dynamic?"_

"_No, of course not!"_

"_Good. I can also see you don't have anger management issues, and your ability to process and feel your own emotions, as well as those of others, is very good. Your meditation helped press those memories of your father down, but you didn't process them as you would your emotions. Something triggered those memories, which is why you feel this sudden paranoia about it. What you need to do is work on separating yourself from your father."_

* * *

It had been two months. The day after Marinette had given him the card, Luka rang the therapist who managed to book him in the following week.

Of course, she hadn't cured him straight away. Therapy, after all, wasn't a quick fix, but rather an exploration to help process and understand what's going on inside one's head. The therapist, Mme. Abreu, had made it clear that Luka would have benefited from more appointments, but as she had to make a living too, she could only afford to give so many free sessions and they get booked very quickly. She did, however, promise to let him know if any of her pre-allocated free sessions opened up.

"If they're booked so far in advance," he'd asked on his way out of her office, "how come you were able to see me so quickly?"

"Ladybug came by and asked if I could squeeze you in sooner."

Again, his mind twinged with a connection not-yet made, a phantom bridge.

Despite having only had the one session, which had over-run a little bit, it had helped. He could still feel his father's sins covering him like a tattoo, but the ink was fading now. Fading again, like it had ten years ago.

But the worry, the guilt, the paranoia hadn't left him completely. They were at least weaker now, and he'd incorporated a mantra into his daily meditation.

_I will not become my father. I will not become my father. I will not become my father._

He had also made sure to see more of Marinette. Although they still couldn't hang out as often as they once had, owing to their exams and Luka needing time to work on himself, Marinette made the effort to see him properly at least once a week. Although this usually comprised of sitting in one or the other's bedroom, doing their own study or practice with the odd smile across the room or cuddle-break, it was better than not seeing her at all.

Luka wondered, sometimes, whether he might not have driven himself to trying to break up with Marinette had he made more effort to talk to her after the incident at Notre Dame.

When his exams had finally finished a week ago, Luka decided to take up a new hobby: something with his hands that wasn't guitar. He still loved the instrument, but after spending all day, everyday practising, he felt he needed a slight break from it. And so he'd taken to his new hobby, usually late at night when the shadows lingering in the recesses of his mind kept him up, and his sister's sleeping breaths from the next room permeated the night's heavy silence.

On such a night, he watched the glimmer of moonlit water reflecting through his window. He imagined, across Paris, Marinette was also up, staring listlessly at her textbooks, revising for her final exam the next day. They'd made plans to meet up afterwards for a celebratory milkshake.

But before exams and milkshakes, Luka had to sleep. And before he slept, he had something to finish.

_Click click click_

* * *

It was an hour before her exam, and Marinette was trying not to freak out as she went through her checklist for the fifth time.

Gotten at least five hours sleep: check.

Eaten breakfast: check.

Studied: check.

Black pen, plus back-up pens: check.  
Water bottle: check.

Lucky underwear: check.

Part of her wanted to spend her last hour doing last-minute revision, but she knew it would only stress her out more. So instead she sat at her desk, twiddling her thumbs, trying to keep her breathing steady.

Tikki sat in front of her, cookie in hand. "Are you feeling confident, Marinette?" she asked with a small spray of crumbs.

"Umm, yeah, sure, confident. That's it. Confident I'm going to _fail."_ Groaning, Marinette let her head fall forward with a _thunck._ "I hate exams…"

"You'll do great, Marinette! But...maybe you shouldn't be hitting your head just before an exam…"

Marinette stopped banging her head against the desk and looked at Tikki. "I guess you're right. I should at least do something useful. Maybe tidy up. Clear my mind."

"Great idea!"

So, after setting an alarm on her phone to remind her to leave for school on time for the exam, Marinette began tidying up the piles of studying equipment littering the room: textbooks and notes and flashcards and doodles. Some went into drawers, some into her bookshelf, and the rest into the bin.

After all, why would she need to keep notes about covalent bonds or trigonometry?

She'd all but tidied up—her room hadn't been that messy to begin with—when she stumbled across a familiar, crumpled piece of paper.

_Your hair black as night  
_ _Your pretty bluebell eyes  
_ _I wonder who you are beneath your disguise_

The poem Adrien had written a couple of years ago. Marinette couldn't believe she still had it; she couldn't believe she'd fished it out of the bin in the first place with no clue who it was really for; couldn't believe how neurotic she had been in those days. The her that used to do crazy things was written on her heart like the words of Adrien's poem: faded ink.

Marinette put the poem aside. Luka had written a new poem on her heart now with fresh ink, repenned every day, better and more beautiful than anything she could have dreamed of back then, like a tattoo on her soul.

She still had ten minutes before she had to leave. Marinette sat down at her desk, grabbed a fresh piece of notepaper from a drawer along with a pen, and began to write.

"Girl, how did you do?" Alya asked as they headed out of their literature exam. "That last question was evil; they told us Dumas probably wouldn't be in it!"

"Yeah, that was pretty annoying," Marinette agreed. "I'm just glad it's all over now…No more stressing myself out studying."

"Now you can stress yourself out waiting for your results," Alya said with a wink. She laughed when Marinette groaned. "Nino and I are going to grab ice cream from André's. You coming with?"

"No, I told Luka I'd meet him here. He should be here soon…"

Alya gave her an odd, guarded look, but nodded. "Okay, I'll see you later then. Remember our girls' movie night on Saturday!"

"I won't! Have a good time." They shared a quick hug then Alya went on her way to find Nino. Marinette sat down on the steps, to one side so as not to get in the way of other students leaving exams, and pulled a piece of paper from her bag.

* * *

Luka was running late. A last-minute chore from Anarka that _couldn't_ wait, one of his shoes going missing, and then nearly forgetting his wallet...it all added up.

And so, twenty minutes after he was meant to meet Marinette, he was charging down the street towards the school. He was relieved to find she was still there, seemingly quite content as she was smiling softly and sketching something on a piece of paper.

As he drew nearer, he realised that she wasn't sketching, but writing. Quietly so as not to disturb her, he took a seat on the step next to her and waited for her to notice him.

She did so a few minutes later, when she glanced up expectantly and found Luka's face next to hers. Her startled yelp made him chuckle.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he said as she took a deep breath and clutched her chest. Her face had turned raspberry pink. "But you looked pretty engrossed with whatever it is you're doing, I didn't want to disturb."

"Oh, that's okay. This isn't anything important…" Marinette put the paper aside then leaned in to hug him. He eagerly returned the embrace, resisting the temptation to pull her onto his lap. Instead, he settled for burrowing his face into the side of her neck and grinned when she giggled.

Luka pulled back enough to kiss her cheek. "How was your exam? Did it go okay?"

"It was fine, I guess."

"Doesn't sound very fine," he commented. "Come on, let's get those milkshakes. There's a nice café that my friend Remy swears by."

"Well," she said, standing. "If it's good enough for Remy…" Marinette scooped up her paper and pen and stuffed them in her bag then took Luka's outstretched hand. He led her down the street, past her house—they waved to her parents through the window—and towards a little café tucked away from the main road.

"I've been here before," she said as Luka held the door open for her. They were greeted by a cozy, low-ceiling room with dark tables and squashy armchairs. There were only a few people inside, sitting near the window with white mugs and plates of pastries. "Alya took me here with Nino and Adrien."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, just after New Years. But we had hot chocolate then, not milkshakes…"

"Maybe we'll come back when it's cold," he said. They found a little table for two at the back, where Luka motioned for her to sit. "I'll get the drinks. What flavour do you want?"

"Hmm…" Marinette craned back in her chair and frowned at the wall behind Luka, which he soon realised displayed the drinks menu. "Blueberry."

"Alright, I'll be back in a bit." He made his way to the counter and placed his order: one blueberry milkshake, one cherry. Then, as he waited for the drinks to be made—the café made each milkshake from scratch behind the till with real ice cream—he leaned on the counter and glanced back at Marinette. She had that piece of paper out again, and was chewing thoughtfully on the end of her pen, and every now and then would cross something out or scribble a few words. Then, just as the milkshakes were ready, she looked up and smiled.

Luka was glad every day that Marinette had persuaded him to stay with her. But somehow, in that moment, in that delighted smile, he was even more so.

With the milkshakes freezing his hands, he made his way back to the table and placed the glasses carefully in front of her.

"Blueberry for _madame."_

"_Madame?"_ she repeated, pouting as she dragged her milkshake closer. "I'm not an old lady."

"Well, you'll be in lycée next year. I think that qualifies a _madame."_

"_If _I get into lycée…" she mumbled, plucking one of the blueberries from the nest of whipped cream on her milkshake and popping it into her mouth.

Luka chuckled and grasped one of her hands. "Of course you'll get in," he said. "You're smart, talented, and a hard-worker. They'd be mad not to accept you."

Marinette flushed and busied herself swirling her whipped cream into the milkshake with a straw. "We'll see when I get my results back…"

"And they'll be great." Luka grinned and nudged her leg under the table whilst rubbing little circles on the back of her thumb. "I know you'll do fine. You certainly studied enough."

She grunted noncommittally and shoved the straw in her mouth. Her eyes flickered briefly to the piece of paper and her face crumpled slightly, as though nervous.

Luka picked the glacé cherry from on top of his milkshake and dropped it into Marinette's because he knew she loved them. "So, what's that?" he asked, nodding at the paper. "An idea for something?"

Marinette flushed again, darker this time, and snatched her hand away from his to grab the paper. "It's, uh...umm…"

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"I kind of do. It's, uhh, for you…" As red as the cherry floating in her milkshake, Marinette handed him the paper then grabbed her glass with both hands and held it up to cover her face.

Surprised, Luka accepted the paper. It was a little crinkled around the edges, and the writing was marred with crossing-outs and words squeezed between lines.

<strike>_His_ </strike>_Hair stained with _<strike>_mi_ </strike>_twilight's ocean  
_<strike>_Yo_ </strike>_Eyes lit with _<strike>_nigh_ </strike>_stars and moon  
_<strike>_His_ </strike>_Your laugh is dusk, your smile is dawn  
Your voice is the_<strike>_soun_ </strike>_<strike>strum</strike> __sigh of a guitar's tune  
_<strike>_I fee_</strike> _Whenever I'm with you,  
_<strike>_I _</strike> _the world is safe and right  
The air is sweet, the light is soft,  
__like cherry blossom at midnight_

He read it once, then again with a sort of reverence. His chest fluttered, like a burst of feathers in a gale. "You wrote this for me?" he ventured softly.

Marinette, swirling her milkshake furiously, nodded. "I, well, um. You see, this morning I found a-a poem and I thought, maybe, it would be nice to, uhh…"

It had been a while since she'd stuttered like that. It had been cute before, endearing. But within the capacity of dating, it made him a little sad. His thoughts were beginning to roll back into the dark; the tattoos strengthened. Was she afraid of him?

Luka took a long sip of the milkshake. The cold in his throat distracted his mind long enough to remind himself that he _wasn't _going to hurt her and she _knew _that. "Why are you so nervous?" he asked, pleased he'd kept his voice steady. She froze and dropped her straw into her drink.

"I...well...You're good at this sort of thing, you know? Your lyrics are so beautiful and, I mean, I'm no poet, so…"

"Marinette." She stopped rambling. "I love it. This is far better than anything I could come up with."

"That's not true!" she cried, then, quieter, "Did...did you really like it?"

Luka smiled and reached across to take her hand again, this time pulling it into the centre of the table. "I really did. You know, this is the first time anyone's ever written a poem for me. Thank you."

"You're welcome," she murmured.

"Oh. I have something for you too...I'm afraid it's not as good as your poem." Feeling his face warm up, Luka manoeuvred himself so he could reach his bag with one hand while still holding Marinette's. Eventually, with Marinette giggling, he managed to pull out his offering and—he felt his cheeks grow darker—held it out to her. "I finished it last night. It's not as good as anything you could do but, well, it was therapeutic to make so I figured I would dedicate it to you. As an apology for everything. And a thank you for everything else.

Marinette let go of his hand to unfurl the pale pink, crocheted fabric. Her eyes grew wide in wonder then filled quite suddenly with tears. "You made me a scarf?"

"Well, I tried." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Some of the stitches went a bit wrong, but…"

Marinette suddenly launched herself forward, practically standing up to lean over the table and smash her lips against his. Before he could even think about kissing her back, she pulled back and sat back in her chair. She wound the scarf around her neck despite how warm it was and nestled into it, grinning as though she had just received something far more spectacular than a dodgy piece of crochet.

"This is the first time anyone's ever made something for me!" she sighed. "Well, apart from that charm…But this is so good for a first try! I love it. And I love you."

Luka could still feel the faint tattoos of his father lingering in his skin. But, under Marinette's blue, cleansing gaze, the ink faded, like waves smoothing lines in the sand. He reached for her hands again, taking both in his, and inclined his body forward.

"And I love you," he said.


	20. Day Twenty: Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Comfort, in which Luka has a strange day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think you all knew this chapter would come eventually. Heheh... What can I say? It's a theory I love, so...
> 
> The song at the end is a lovely folk song called 'Wild Mountain Thyme'. It's great and I love it. This fic is basically becoming an excuse to reference random Scottish folk...sorry about that.
> 
> Thank you for all of your responses. I'm glad so many people enjoyed the last chapter!
> 
> (P.S. I just realised the poem from the last chapter didn't format correctly. There were meant to be bits crossed out, but for some reason the crossing-out lines didn't appear so the poem read kinda all nonsensical. I've fixed it now though! Serves me right for posting without previewing...)

**Day Twenty: Comfort**

"Luka Couffaine, this is the Miraculous of the snake. You'll use it for good, and return it when the job's finished. Do you accept?"

Luka stared wide-eyed at the little box. Darkish red, hexagonal, topped with a sort of lined pattern. Miraculous of the snake? Use it for good? Become a hero?

Because this day clearly hadn't been crazy enough already.

It had started normal enough. With summer under way, Kitty Section were able to get back into more regular rehearsals. Marinette, along with a few of her friends, had decided to join on this particular occasion. They had been taking a short break, and Luka had used the opportunity to have a cuddle under the guise of teaching her guitar, when they heard screaming from the top deck.

And thus, the craziness began. Anarka stood by the railings, shouting at none other than Jagged Stone—_the_ Jagged Stone!—who was nonchalantly playing piano on top of his tour bus as if this happened every day.

It transpired that Anarka—Nanarchy?—used to play guitar with Jagged Stone—_the_ Jagged Stone! And he wanted her back after firing his current guitarist.

Then, Jagged spotted Marinette and greeted her like an old friend. She'd made glasses for Jagged Stone—_the_ Jagged Stone!—and now he wanted her opinion on a replacement guitarist?

Immediately, she had pushed Luka forward, proclaiming he was the man for the job, but just as Jagged Stone—_the_ Jagged Stone!—was asking him to show what he had, an akuma showed up, all skull make-up and dark clothes. With a trumpet extracted from her guitar case, the akuma attacked, vanishing people in clouds of yellow smoke. And in the rush to escape, he'd lost sight of Marinette.

Luka had managed to hide with Adrien for a while, with Ladybug leading them to the sewers after taking his guitar. Then Adrien had disappeared, and now…

"Well?" said Chat Noir, crooked grin slipping. "Do you want to be a hero?"

"Why are you choosing me?" he blurted. He knew, of course, that the crime-fighting duo had been known to take on other heroes from time to time, but he couldn't understand why they'd want _him: _he'd never really spoken to either hero. And yet, Chat Noir was in front of him, holding out a box of superpowers.

"Because you're exactly who we need on this mission," he replied. "Ladybug chose this Miraculous, but we ran into Desperada and got separated and, well, long story short, I ended up with the box but with no idea who Ladybug wanted to give it to, so...I'm giving it to you. I'm sure she'd agree. Besides, it's about time _I _got to pick a user. She always picks them and never tells me who they are. This time, I get to know the secret and she doesn't."

Luka decided not to comment on Chat's focus on having and knowing secrets—it sounded like an issue between Chat Noir and Ladybug. Instead, he accepted the little box and opened up. In a flash of glittering, blue-green light, a little snake emerged and floated in front of him.

"Greetingssssss," said the snake. "I am Sassssss, the snake kwami."

"Hi," Luka said. "I'm Luka."

"Pleasure to meet you, Luka." Sass bowed, but didn't lower his vivid yellow gaze. "I grant the power of Ssssecond Chance, which allowssss you to reset time by five minutesssss to correct missstakesssss. Once you usssse your power, you have until the sssssnake head reachesss the end of itssss tongue to do what you have to do. To transssform, you have to ssssay, Ssscales Sssslither!"

"Did you get all that?" Chat Noir asked. "Sorry, Ladybug's usually better at explaining all this. After all, she does have more experience…"

"I think I got it," Luka replied. He took the bangle out of the box and slipped it on his wrist, and with it came a sudden surge of pure energy. "Sass," he said. "Scales Slither."

His body was engulfed in more turquoise light which seemed to seep into his skin, into his flesh, flooding him with power. His clothes melted away into an armoured suit, patterned like a snake, and a small lyre appeared in his hand.

As soon as Luka—though perhaps he ought to pick an alias—had transformed, Chat Noir began climbing the ladder out of the sewer. But Luka reached out and touched his ankle. "Shouldn't we wait for Ladybug? That akuma was pretty dangerous; she could catch us unaware."

Chat Noir paused, and for a moment Luka—Snake Boy? Cobra? Python?—thought he was going to fight back, but instead he nodded and dropped back down. "She's better with the plans than me anyway...Let's see where she is…" He pulled out his baton and slid part of it open like an old phone, then held it up to his ear. "Ladybug? Where are you?...We're in the sewer...Yeah, I found the perfect person for the snake...Umm, there's a plaque with 33B?...Okay, see you soon, Buggaboo!" Chat Noir finished the call with a kissy noise then slid his baton shut and stowed it on his back.

Not long later, Ladybug came running down the sewer to meet them, her red costume stark against the dark walls. When she reached them, Ladybug propped her fist on her hip and looked Luka up and down. "So, Chat picked you for the snake?" she said.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm Viperion."

"Viperion, huh?" Ladybug tilted her head and scrunched her eyes slightly, and for a moment Viperion was worried she was going to turf him out of the team. But then she smiled and nodded. "Good to meet you. Has Chat Noir filled you in on everything?"

"Yep."

"Good. This akuma is a tough one, so we'll definitely need your Second Chance. And a little extra help, I think." She grinned and tossed her yo-yo in the air with a cry of, "Lucky Charm!"

A pink glimmer gave way to a horse saddle, red with black spots. Ladybug caught it, bemused. "What are you going to do with that?" Chat Noir asked.

"Hmm, not sure yet… Could you hold on to this for a moment?" She handed the saddle to Viperion then began climbing the ladder. "Just going to scope out where Desperada is…"

"Perhaps you would have preferred a lucky horseshoe for your first mission, huh?" Chat Noir grinned.

Maybe, but Viperion had faith it would turn out okay with Ladybug at the helm. "No need," he replied. "Ladybug brings enough luck for all of us."

Ladybug smiled at him as she jumped back down and took the saddle back. "She's in the Eiffel Tower, so we'll use a different exit. But first…Follow me."

There was a familiar glint in her eye, but Viperion didn't have time to dwell on it as Ladybug and Chat Noir had already taken off running. He followed, finding it easier than it should have been to keep up. The suit, he decided, must have enhanced his physical abilities.

Ladybug came to an abrupt stop and looked at Chat Noir. "Chat, if you would…"

"With pleasure, Milady." Chat Noir summoned his Cataclysm and touched the bubbling, black energy to the wall. Immediately, it turned brown, and the decay spread up. A deep rumbling sounded, then the ceiling cracked, at which point Ladybug pushed Viperion towards the nearest ladder.

"Come on, before we get crushed," she said.

They quickly climbed up into the street, which was thick with dust and debris. The Eiffel Tower was leaning to one side owing to the fact that one of its legs had sunk into the crumbling ground.

Beside him, Ladybug was staring intently at the figure of Desperada. When she turned back, she had a look of fierce determination. "We need to stop her using her weapons, then destroy the case. Ready, Viperion?"

Ready? Oh, of course. He nodded and lifted his wrist then murmured, "Second Chance," and twisted his bracelet. If he had understood correctly, for the next five minutes he could reset time to this moment as many times as needed.

Hopefully, he wouldn't need to go it too many times; how many days, weeks, months could he live in the same five minutes without going insane?

Nevertheless, with that moment in time fixed, they ran into the fray.

The akuma battles always looked intense on TV, but it was nothing compared to the reality of physically being there. The punches, the powers, the speed, none of it looked real through a screen. But now, Viperion could feel the way the air whipped from Ladybug's spinning yo-yo and Chat Noir's twirling baton, the power in their attacks. The fear when Desperada pulled on Ladybug's string and slammed her into Chat Noir, the heart-in-throat panic when the two heroes disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Viperion nodded, committing the scene to memory, and twisted his bracelet.

In an instant, they were back in the cloud of smoke, and Ladybug was about to charge into battle, but Viperion stopped her with a hand to her arm. "No, we need to get rid of those trumpets before we charge in."

"Leave that to me," said Chat Noir. He flung his baton as Desperada turned to them, effectively knocking both instruments out of her hands. However, she noticed Ladybug running up behind her and pulled out a guitar just in time to hit her.

Viperion twisted his bracelet.

Each time they tried, Viperion felt closer to the answer. Removing her first weapons still left her free to pull out more. Incapacitating her hands would only work if they'd first managed to empty them. And, finally, _crucially_, music distracted her.

He knew what to do.

Instead of charging in, he told Ladybug and Chat Noir to hold back, and climbed up to a low rung on the Eiffel Tower with his lyre. The gentle, lilting tune caught her attention, distracting her long enough for Chat Noir and Ladybug to knock the trumpets out of her hands. Then, before she could pull out her guitar, Ladybug wrapped her yo-yo around Desperada's hand, and Viperion trapped the other with his lyre.

It was over quickly after that. Chat Noir charged in with the saddle and forced Desperada on it, then threw the guitar case into the air. Ladybug smashed the front, releasing a little black butterfly, and snatched it in her yo-yo.

With the akuma purified, and Paris reverted to usual, they went their separate ways. Ladybug took Vivica back, and Viperion followed Chat Noir to a safe place to detransform. And finally, the strangeness of the day had come to an end.

Hadn't it?

* * *

"Luka!" Relief bubbled from her as abundant laughter as Marinette ran across the deck. She barrelled into Luka's chest. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer as he kissed her head.

"Are you alright?" he asked, pulling away just enough to smile down at her.

She nodded. "Yeah, I found somewhere to hide."

"Good."

The others gradually gathered on deck, some emerging from inside the boat, others wandering on from the street. And among them, Jagged Stone.

"Ey, Marinette! There's my wonder-niece!" he said in his English drawl, clapping Marinette's shoulder.

"I'm not your niece, Jagged," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Honorary wonder-niece then," he amended. "Why is it, whenever we see each other, there's an akuma? Means we don't get much time to catch up! That reminds me, I'm in need of your artistic abilities once again. Penny'll set up a meeting, alright?"

"Okay." She glanced at Luka lingering awkwardly beside them, staring in awe at Jagged. Marinette nudged him closer to the rock star and grinned. "You didn't get to meet Luka properly. He's amazing at guitar, though I suppose you don't need a guitarist anymore…"

"Not now that I've made up with Vivica," Jagged Stone agreed. "Still, if my Marinette says you're good then I'd love to jam with you, Luka, if that's rock'n'roll with you!"

Luka took a while to respond. He blinked a few times, glanced at Marinette, then nodded rapidly at Jagged. "Yeah, I'd love to! Thank you, M. Stone."

"M. Stone is my father," Jagged Stone said. "Call me Jagged. Any friend of Marinette is a friend of mine!"

Giggling, Marinette grasped Luka's hand and held it up. "He's more than just a friend, Jagged."

"Oh, what!" Jagged Stone yelped, sounding scandalised. "You didn't tell me you had a boyfriend, Marinette!"

"It...didn't come up? Like you said, there's always an akuma when we meet up…"

"Do, uhh, you meet up often?" Luka asked, almost hesitantly. Still star-struck.

"Whenever I'm in Paris! Ever since she made these rock'n'roll shades for me!" he said, adjusting the colourful Eiffel Tower glasses still perched on his nose. "She gets me, you know. And after that album cover, and the poster, I'd be crazy not to commission her for more merchandise!"

Marinette felt Luka's gaze swivel to the side of her head, and with a block of ice rolling down her throat, she realised she'd never told him about the pieces she'd designed for Jagged Stone.

"Album?" he asked. "Poster?"

"Didn't you know?" Jagged said, clasping Marinette's shoulder with a sort of fatherly pride. "My girl here designed the _Rock Giant_ album, and the poster for my _Gates of Granite_ tour. And, hopefully, a rock'n'roll jacket fo—"

"Anyway!" Marinette cut in. "If you want to jam together then you might want to do that sooner rather than later…"

Fortunately, Jagged took the bait and practically dragged Luka to the little stage are where Kitty Section had been practising earlier. Within no time, the other musicians had joined them, breaking out guitars, drums, bass and, of course, Jagged on the keyboard. Marinette, along with the other non-musicians, were quite content to watch and listen, bobbing their heads to the beat and laughing whenever Jagged did something over-the-top—which, being Jagged Stone, he did often.

Anarka, however, was nowhere to be seen.

It eventually came to an end, however. Penny ushered Jagged back to his bus, throwing promises to contact Marinette that week over her shoulder. Ivan left to walk Mylène home; Adrien rushed off to get Kagami back before her mother found out she'd skipped fencing, taking Alya and Alix with them; and Juleka disappeared into the boat with Rose.

Soon, only Luka and Marinette remained. They found a cosy place to sit, tangled in each other's arms, as they watched the sun glimmer on the Seine. Luka rested his chin on her shoulder and pressed his nose to her cheek. "So," he said. She jolted slightly at the breath on her neck. "_Rock Giant_, huh?"

"I did it for him last year," she said, pushing his head away. "I wasn't keeping it from you or anything, it just never came up…"

Luka shifted to place his chin on top of her head and folded his arms over her stomach. "I'm impressed. I always knew you were talented but to have _Jagged Stone_ commission you. How'd you manage to score a gig like that?"

"It was actually Chloe's fault."

"Chloe? Now this is a story I _have _to hear."

Before she could launch into the tale of their career day at the hotel, Anarka poked her head up from the deck and called out, "Luka! Have ye a moment, lad?"

Luka sighed and tightened his grip around Marinette's waist. "What's up, Ma?"

Anarka seemed to hesitate before stepping out onto the deck. "There's something I need to tell ye. Uhh—" Her eyes flicked briefly to Marinette then back to her son— "I think it would be best if talked downstairs."

Marinette knew what she meant. _Without her._ So, she untangled herself from Luka's grip, despite his protests. "Go talk to your maman," she said, jostling his shoulder. "Do you want me to stay?"

Luka pressed his lips together and nodded. "Please."

"Okay." She kissed his cheek, relishing the soft smile he gave her, and let him go.

* * *

The sun was beginning to set by the time Luka returned.

He was surlier now, troubled. Just like he had been a couple of months ago when he'd tried to break up with her. She was worried he was going to attempt to again, but then he slumped next to her and let his head fall onto her shoulder.

"Is...is everything okay?" she asked cautiously.

Wordlessly, he shook his head. His hand found hers and he began fiddling with her fingers.

"What happened?"

"My...my father," he croaked.

A horrible chill shivered up Marinette's arms and legs. What could have happened now? What had Anarka told him? She hoped nothing to make him backtrack, but as he sat there, limp as a corpse, he looked broken.

"What about him?" she gently probed.

"He...he isn't who I thought."

"What do you mean?"

"My father is...my father is Jagged Stone."

Marinette opened her mouth to reply, but no words were forthcoming. What could she say? How was she supposed to respond to _that? _Jagged Stone, being…

"You don't mean Jagged Stone did all those horrible things," she whispered, shocked. She couldn't picture the eccentric rock star doing anything as deplorable the memories that Luka had described once.

But Luka was shaking his head, breathing quickly. "No. Ma, she said...she said…" He gulped another breath, deeper this time, and launched into his tale with a sort of crazed persistence. As though he couldn't keep it in, keep it hidden, if he wanted. "She had a fling with Jagged Stone when she worked with him in Britain. But when she found out she was pregnant, he freaked. So she left, ran away to Calais. That's where she met him. The man I _thought_ was my father but...I mean, you know what happened from then. The divorce and the _Liberty _and moving to Paris. And…"

His next breath shuddered like a dry leaf scraped across cement. He pressed his face closer to her skin and clung to her, trembling. Marinette pulled him closer, stroked his hair, hummed quietly as gasps tore from his lips.

"S-sorry," he murmured against her neck.

She continued humming, because she knew that's what would help calm him. A Scottish tune he'd played a few times for her before, about heather and mountain thyme. But she didn't know all of the words, so she hummed, then softly sang, "_Da da dum, da da da da dum…" _when she felt his breathing slow and his grip slacken.

Eventually, he lifted his head and rubbed his red eyes, but his body was still pressed against hers. "I'm sorry," he said again, voice deep and thick. "I just feel..._relieved_."

"I suppose even Jagged Stone isn't a bad upgrade from that scumbag," Marinette teased, pleased when she received a wet chuckle in response. "At least we know where that insane musical talent comes from."

He laughed again, nuzzling his head into her shoulder. "Thank you," he said, then, "I love you."

"So you keep saying."

"Because it's true," he returned. "Because you deserve to be told that everyday."

"So do you," she said. She reached around him to play with the hair at the back of his head. "I love you."

She could feel his grin against her bare arm.

Luka sat up again and curled his arm around her, drawing her head to his shoulder and chest, and began humming as the sky before them turned orange and yellow, and the clouds were purple like tiny tufts of heather, and when Marinette closed her eyes she imagined they were in a field of long grass, and the wild flowers grew around them like a comforting embrace.

"_And we'll all go together,_  
_ To pull wild mountain thyme_  
_ All around the blooming heather_  
_ Will ye go, lassie, go?"_


	21. Day Twenty-One: Kwami Swap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kwami swap, in which Marinette falls down the stairs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, back with a new instalment (just about still the 21st in England!) This chapter is a little different and there isn't much fluff in it, I'm afraid...apparently this story sort of has a plot now or something? Not sure how that happened but there we go...
> 
> I realised as I was writing this that this would have been a better prompt for the Reflekdoll chapter...oh well. Not much I can do about that now!
> 
> And just in case people start correcting me on this: I know harlequins aren't fake ladybirds. But the characters don't necessarily know that...
> 
> Thank you for all your kind comments and support!

**Day Twenty-One: Kwami Swap**

It had finally happened.

Really, she was surprised it had taken so long. Fifteen years of lucky breaks and conveniently-placed handholds had come to an end.

Marinette had sprained her ankle.

She was fortunate not to have broken it, her father told her as he helped her hobble up the stairs after a visit to the hospital. "And both your wrists too," he said. "You won't be able to write for a while, or draw."

"I know," Marinette moaned, struggling up to the stairway to her bed. With most of her appendages not working and crutches not a viable option, she was more or less confined to her room. When she was settled on top of her duvet, Tom propped open the trapdoor to let in the fresh, summer air.

"I have to get back to the bakery," he said. "We've got an order for a dozen boxes of raspberry éclairs for this afternoon and I haven't even started…Do you need anything?"

"My laptop?"

Tom nipped down to the lower floor of the room to retrieve the laptop and brought it up for her. "Your maman'll bring you lunch later. You know the bakery number if you need anything."

"Yes, papa."

"Okay. You take it easy." With a bristly kiss on her forehead, Tom bid her goodbye then hurried back down the stairs and through the trapdoor.

As soon as the door shut, Tikki emerged from her hiding spot and sat on her knee. "This is bad, Marinette," she said worriedly.

"I know! How am I going to do the preliminary sketches for Jagged's poster if I can't even hold a pencil! Let alone draw…" Marinette grumbled as she eased her laptop open. Her wrists twinged painfully. "I can barely even type…"

"I mean if an akuma attacks!" Tikki exclaimed. "You can't transform into Ladybug with those injuries!"

At this, Marinette frowned. She hadn't thought of that. "Can't you help with that? Strengthen that part of the costume or something?"

Tikki shook her head. "It doesn't work that way. I can help it heal quicker but you'll be out of action for at least a few days…"

"Maybe we'll be lucky?" Marinette suggested. "What are the chances of Hawkmoth releasing another akuma over the next few days? We just had one yesterday."

Apparently, she'd spoken too soon. Immediately, a roar tore through the air, followed by a loud smashing noise. Marinette tried to clamber to her feet to peer through the trapdoor to her balcony but as soon as she put weight on her right ankle she yelped and collapsed.

Tikki flew up instead, and returned a few seconds later with a grim expression. "Akuma," she confirmed. "This one looks especially dangerous."

"What do we do?" Marinette cried. "If I can't transform...but Chat Noir can't purify the akuma...should he transform into Mister Bug again? But we can't do it without the Cat Miraculous... Should we ask Master Fu? Where's my phone? Please don't tell me I left it on my desk…"

Tikki's grimace confirmed that she had. "I'll take the earrings to Master Fu. It'll be quicker to go straight to him, then I can take them to whoever he picks to replace you. Just temporarily."

Marinette chewed her bottom lip; the thought of Tikki venturing out _with _the Miraculous was a worrying one. What if the akuma spotted her and attacked? What if Hawkmoth somehow found out and followed her?

But there weren't any other options so she nodded. "Okay." Marinette unpinned the earrings and handed them to Tikki, not liking how empty her ears were, how powerless she felt.

Tikki bumped her forehead against Marinette's then disappeared through the trapdoor.

Sighing, Marinette pulled her laptop closer and, slowly due to her injuries, pulled up a Nadja Chamack's channel and the Ladyblog to watch any live footage of the battle.

* * *

Luka heard the akuma before he saw it. Something screeched, then the building just before him was suddenly demolished by a large, green tail. Straight away, people on the street ran in the opposite direction. Luka nearly joined them when, behind the wreckage of the building, there emerged what could be described as Godzilla from the American and Japanese movies. But, something stopped him from running.

Marinette lived around here.

And Marinette seemed to have no gauge of dangerous situations.

He took off sprinting, against the crowd like a salmon up a waterfall, blood pounding in his ears as, with another crash, the giant lizard destroyed a second building. He hated to think how many people might have been injured—or worse.

He skidded onto her street; it was already empty as most people had gone into hiding. However, he hadn't gotten far when something red caught his attention. A little creature, whizzing through the air. It reminded him of Sass, but this one was red…

"Hey!" he called. "Are you a kwami?"

The little red thing nearly fell out of the air, but it recovered quickly and hesitantly approached him. Like Sass, it had a large head for its tiny body, but this one was decorated with little black spots and its eyes were bright blue. It held a pair of earrings.

"How do you know…" she began, eyes wide with alarm.

"I…" Luka paused. Was he allowed to tell his secret to another kwami? "I have experience. I know... Wait. Are you Ladybug's kwami?"

The kwami tensed, then sighed. "Not here," it said, nodding towards a small alley. "We can't be overheard."

They ducked into the alleyway, walking a little way down it so the shadows hid them from anyone who might have walked past.

The creature hesitated before speaking. "I'm Tikki," it said. "I'm Ladybug's kwami."

"Is she okay?" he asked. "Why isn't she transformed? There's an akuma attack happening."

"She's fine," Tikki replied. "Just, she can't transform right now."

How could the akuma be defeated without Ladybug? Unless... He eyed the earrings in the kwami's tiny arms. "Are you looking for someone to replace her?"

She—at least, it sounded like a she—bit her lip and glanced away, but nodded.

"I'll do it," Luka said. "I have experience. I'm Viperion—or, I was. I can help."

"You…" Tikki gaped at him. "You really shouldn't go around spreading that. If Hawkmoth finds out, you and your family could be in danger."

"Sorry. I didn't think it would matter if it was another kwami…"

Another thundering crash rang through the street. More buildings were reduced to rubble by the akuma. Tikki pursed her lips, forehead scrunched as though in deep thought. Then, her eyes hardened, resolute.

"Alright, as we don't have time," she said, holding out the earrings. "Please, will you accept the Miraculous of the Ladybug this once?"

Luka glanced at the destroyed buildings, then at the Dupain-Cheng bakery, and nodded. "I will."

"Ladybug's special power is Lucky Charm, which will help you to defeat the akuma. And the Miraculous Cure, which will return everything to normal. All you have to say is Spots On."

Luka quickly replaced his earrings with the Miraculous; a familiar surge of energy coursed through his body. "Spots On," he said, and the energy multiplied. Similarly to Sass, he felt something like pure power absorb into his skin and body, but this power was different. Lighter, somehow. Airier. Whereas Sass heightened his senses, made him feel powerful, Tikki made him feel _alive_, like his mind was too big for his body. Like he had a thousand thoughts flickering in his brain like stars. Like a whole sky of constellations merged into one.

The costume was scarlet with spots scattered all across his torso, but the lower half of his legs and arms were solid black. The yo-yo appeared on his hip; he hadn't played with one for several years, but hopefully the ability to use it came with the transformation.

He gave it an experimental swing, only for it to hit his head.

"Well, here goes," he murmured to himself, casting one last look at Marinette's house before launching himself after the akuma.

Godzilla—as he had chosen to call it—seemed to have no other goal than to smash up buildings and kick cars, like a toddler throwing a tantrum. But, due to its size, Luka was unable to stop it with his yo-yo, or fight it with his fists.

Luka perched on top of a building, out of reach of the akuma's claws. What would the real Ladybug do?

"Hey, Buggaboo! Miss me?" Chat Noir crooned, landing neatly beside him. "What do we have he—what?" Chat Noir stared at him, confusion melted away into suspicion. "Who are you? Where's Ladybug?"

Luka—he needed to think of another alias—sighed. "She couldn't transform, so I'm standing in for now."

Suspicion turned to concern. "Can't transform? Is she okay?"

"She's fine. I'm not sure why she can't transform."

"Do you know her? I mean, in real life?"

Luka—Mister Bug? Coccinelle?—shook his head. "No. I just found her kwami. This is only for today."

Chat Noir stared at him for a few seconds longer then nodded. "As long as she's alright. What's the situation here? Godzilla?"

"Looks like it," Luka replied. "I can't see where the akuma is. It doesn't look like it's wearing anything."

"Is it holding something?" Chat Noir asked. "Sometimes that's where it is."

"No, not holding anything."

"Damn. Looks like we'll have to get a closer look...uhh... What should I call you? Not that it's important as it's just for today…"

Something like sourness had seeped into Chat Noir's voice, but Luka ignored it. He'd seen the headlines and the gossip columns about Chat Noir's feelings for Ladybug, and his constant rejections. A smidgen of jealousy wouldn't surprise him.

"Harlequin," he replied. "You know, like the fake ladybugs?"

This seemed to please Chat Noir as he gave a short, breathy chuckle. "Alright then, Harlequin. Let's get a better look."

They swooped down, landing at the akuma's feet, but it didn't seem the least bit interested in them. Instead, it continued yelling and stomping and punching buildings. Luka—_Harlequin_—wondered if it really _was_ a toddler having a tantrum.

"Hey, Godzilla!" Chat Noir shouted, baton at the ready. "Want a real fight with someone who can hit back?"

"_RREEAAEAAAH!"_ screamed the akuma, lifting its foot to stamp on them. Chat Noir leapt nimbly out of the way and began jabbing the akuma's scaly leg, still taunting it.

Harlequin, having stumbled in his bid to not get squashed, retreated a small distance away to assess the situation. He had to be missing something. The akuma had no weapons, just its size and brute strength. It had no clothes, so accessories. Just itself: claws, teeth and scales.

_Scales._

He noticed the discoloured patch on the akuma's chest: not vivid green but a dingy yellow, shaped roughly like the beast itself. It had to be where the akuma was. And now that he knew where it was—or hoped it was—he just needed something to help get it.

Praying he wouldn't hit his head again, Harlequin flung the yo-yo in the air with a quiet, "Lucky Charm."

A pink flash, then a red and black object fell into his hands. A large, leather hoop. A horse collar?

Harlequin frowned and looked back at the akuma. Chat Noir was running circles around it, lingering just long enough for it to strike, then jumping away at the last second. Soon, the ground was covered in dents from the akuma's tail and feet where it had tried to squash Chat Noir, and the buildings around had large holes where it had caught itself when it lost balance.

Harlequin glanced back at the horse collar and smirked.

He had an idea.

"Chat Noir!" he called. "Get this on Godzilla's hand!" He flung the collar, which Chat Noir caught easily with a thumbs up. Then, as Chat Noir got to work trying to force the collar on, Harlequin charged forward with his yo-yo spinning. He threw it. The end wrapped around Godzilla's other wrist, but the akuma didn't notice; it was too busy swatting at Chat Noir.

Harlequin made a running leap, and with the Miraculous' extra boost, managed to land on Godzilla's back. Then, he yanked as hard as he could on the yo-yo, forcing the akuma's arm back. He tied the string around one of the back-spines, trapping the arm, and looked to Chat Noir.

He had the collar around the other hand. Then, seeing Harlequin, he similarly used the collar to pull the arm towards its back.

The akuma thrashed and stomped, kicking cars and smacking its tail into anything it could reach, but Harlequin held on tight. Finally, it overbalanced and, without its arms, it couldn't catch itself on anything. The akuma fell sideways and slammed into the pavement, nearly throwing the two heroes off its back.

"Let me take that," Harlequin said, keeping one hand on the yo-yo string as he braced himself against the spines. "There's a yellow patch on its chest."

"Gotcha." Chat Noir grunted as he passed him the collar, with the akuma's flailing hand trapped in the middle, and leapt down. A few seconds later, Harlequin heard a cry of _Cataclysm! _Followed by a rush of black and purple. A butterfly fluttered up, which Harlequin quickly snatched up in his yo-yo, and released purified.

Where the akuma had just been, there now sat a child next to a pile of dust. Harlequin hurled the horse collar in the air and, feeling only slightly silly, announced, "Miraculous Harlequin!"

The horse collar burst into pink light and ladybugs, and the street was put back to rights. The demolished houses stood tall, the cars back on the curb. Any injured people well again.

Chat Noir, mouth pulled to one side, held up his fist. Harlequin met it with the least enthusiastic _Pound it!_ he'd ever witnessed.

"You sure Ladybug will be back next time?" Chat Noir asked. "You were fine, but you can't compare with my lady."

"I hope so," he replied. "That was pretty intense."

"Yeah," Chat Noir agreed. "It is. Well, thanks for stepping in, Harlequin. Don't take this the wrong way, but I hope we _don't _meet again."

"Not like this, anyway," Harlequin added. "I have to get going. These earrings are beeping, so…"

"Yeah, go ahead. I'll take care of this one." He knelt down in front of the child, who now held a plastic toy dinosaur and seemed surprisingly content for someone who, mere moments ago, had been tearing up Paris. "I'll take you home, kiddo. Where to?"

As Chat Noir spoke to the child, Harlequin fled. He hoped not too many people or cameras had seen him—it probably wouldn't be good if Hawkmoth found out the real Ladybug was out of action—but it was too late. As he ran back towards the alley he'd spoken to Tikki in, he spotted a news helicopter hovering above where the fight had been, and Marinette's friend Alya skulking on the sidelines with her boyfriend.

"Hey!" she called. "Harlequin, was it? Can you answer a few questions for the Ladyblog?"

"Sorry!" he yelled. "Can't stay!"

She shouted something else, but he was too far away to hear it. He reached the alley moments before the transformation gave out, and he was once again just Luka with a kwami in his hands.

"Thank you." Tikki smiled. "You make a fine Ladybug."

"Well, if you ever need me again," he said as he took out the earrings. Suddenly, he felt quite exhausted, like he'd just run a marathon.

Tikki nodded and took the earrings. "We'll know where to find you. I have to go back to the real Ladybug now. You'd better go home. It was nice working with you, Luka!"

She disappeared before he could reply. Luka decided to wait a little bit before leaving the alley, lest he should see where Tikki went. The real Ladybug could live nearby, and he'd hate to accidentally find out her identity and compromise her safety.

However, as he strolled out of the alley, half a minute later, another thought crossed his mind.

"How did she know my name?"

* * *

Luka was nearly home when he received a text from Marinette that almost made him turn around.

**M: soooooo guess who nearly broke her leg**

**L: Are you okay!?**

**M: yea**  
**M: just sprained my ankle**  
** M: and my wrists**  
** M: both of them**

**L: How?**

**M: fell down the stairs**

**L: Do you need anything? Do you want me to come over?  
L: I can be there in 20**

**M: nooooo**  
** M: its fine**  
** M: ive got a film playing**  
** M: just need rest for now**

**L: I'll come round tomorrow**  
** L: You can't stop me**  
** L: I'll bring you favourite chocolate**

**M: :D  
M: xxx**

**L: xxx**

He still wanted to turn back and see her, but she seemed content enough, and he had promised to help Anarka with a few chores that evening. He had debated swinging back around afterwards, but by the time he'd finished the chores it was nearly 9pm. He knew her parents went to bed early due to the bakery, and as lovely as they were they wouldn't appreciate him waking them up.

When he went down to his room that evening, with thoughts of chilling to a bit of music and maybe attempting more crocheting, he was surprised to find a small box on his desk, along with a note.

_Destroy after reading._

_I'm sure you know what this is and how to use it._  
With Hawkmoth's akumas becoming stronger, we cannot risk any mistakes.  
Use it well.

It wasn't signed. Luka read it a few times then, as per the instructions, he fished a box of matches out his desk—he'd gone through a candle phase a few years ago—and struck a flame. He watched the paper burn and disintegrate into a pile of ash, which he scooped up and dumped out his window.

Then, he turned to the box—the very _familiar_ box—and opened it.

A flash of turquoise light.

A surge of energy.

A low, smooth voice.

"Hello again, Luka."


	22. Day Twenty-Two: Sun and Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sun and moon, in which Luka and Marinette go star-gazing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aren't you guys lucky! Getting it a few hours earlier today! 
> 
> Slightly shorter one today owing to the fact I haven't had much time to work on it as I'm visiting the fiancé and should therefore probably pay him some attention... Also, this prompt had me stumped me for a while. I was worried I wouldn't get anything out.
> 
> Thank you as always for your continued support. I really means a lot to me.

**Day Twenty-Two: Sun and Moon**

Summer had begun to slowly ebb into autumn. With the warm nights encroaching on the days earlier and earlier, Marinette had decided to make the most of their time left before lycée started again by inviting Luka to her balcony to watch the stars for a while.

With a flask of hot chocolate and a plate of Tikki's favourite cookies between them, they sprawled out on several thick blankets and waited for the last purple dregs of the sunset to fade into the velvet night. Already, they could pick out stars struggling to flicker against the sun's final blaze.

"You can just see Polaris," Luka said, pointing at one such star. "When it gets dark, you'll be able to see Ursa Minor."

"Ursa Minor? What's that meant to be?"

"The Little Bear," he replied. "Ursa Major, too. That's the Great Bear. But in Britain they call it the Plough. And in America it's the Big Dipper."

"Ohh…"

As the sunset died, Marinette drew closer to Luka, curling up in his welcoming arms and giggling when he laid his head on hers. More stars gradually emerged, and he pointed out a few more constellations. Draco the dragon, Aquila the eagle, Cygnus the swan. He motioned a rough patch of sky where he assured her Serpens the serpent resided, although he couldn't quite see it at the moment.

The moon was a lopsided grin, tearing the black sky like a ripped seam. Marinette sighed that it would have been more romantic had it been full, but Luka shook his head.

"Star-gazing's a lot harder with a full moon," he said. "It's too bright, washes out the stars."

"I didn't think of that," she said. "I suppose the moon can be pretty bright when it's full...it's still more romantic, though."

"Then in a couple of weeks, we should go moon-gazing."

"That's not a thing."

"We'll make it a thing. Our thing."

The evening wore on, flinging more stars across the heavens. As they tried to make their own constellations out of the stars, a figure darted through the darkness, vaulting across rooftops. Marinette untangled herself from Luka's arms to peer into the night.

"Chat Noir," she said.

"I wonder what he's doing out. Maybe there's an akuma?"

"Nah, we would have heard it by now." At least, Marinette _hoped _there wasn't an akuma because she was enjoying the star-lit evening and she would hate to cut _another _date short because of Hawkmoth's obsession with teenagers' jewellery. (She knew the Miraculous were more than teenagers', but at this point she didn't care to acknowledge the difference.)

She was constantly worried that Luka would grow tired of her always disappearing at the worst times. But lately he had seemed less worried when they reunited after the attack, and fewer missed phone calls during her Ladybug stints. It wasn't in an uncaring way; he still fussed over her and made sure she was okay and hugged her a bit too tightly. But it had changed somehow, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

Her mind twinged when she thought about it now, as though there was something she wasn't getting.

"Good evening, young lovers."

Chat Noir's grin matched the moon as he landed nimbly on the balcony rail, eyes gleaming.

"Hello, Chat Noir," Marinette replied. It wasn't common for him to stop by, but it still happened occasionally. She grabbed the plate of cookies and offered it to him. "What are you doing out this evening? Is there an akuma?"

"Not that I know," he responded, happily taking a couple of treats. He shoved one whole in his mouth before adding, with a spray of crumbs, "It's just nice to get out of the house, you know? And who knows! Maybe I'll be lucky enough to bump into Ladybug under the moonlight."

Marinette sighed. The smallest smudge of guilt rubbed against her chest. She hadn't yet had the heart to tell Chat Noir that she, as a civilian, was dating someone. Partly because she didn't want to hurt his feelings, and partly because she didn't want to risk him acting out as he sometimes did whenever she rejected him.

Chat Noir swallowed the first cookie and flashed them both knowing smirk. "I'll leave you two to your date. Thanks for the cookies, princess."

Like a leaf on an autumn breeze, he was gone. Marinette retreated back to the warm spot in Luka's arms and burrowed her head into his chest.

"Princess, huh?" he commented.

"Don't…"

"Do I need to be worried about you being snatched away by a man in a black cat suit?"

Marinette snorted and lightly smacked his shoulder; her chuckles reverberated in his chest. "Don't tell me you're jealous."

"Do I need to be?"

"Luka!"

His laugh was louder this time, but his fingers curled slightly tighter around her arm. "I'm not," he assured her. "But what can I say? Any man would get a little possessive when another man gives his girl a pet name like 'princess'."

She knew by his teasing grin that he wasn't serious. "Especially when said man doesn't even have a pet name for 'his girl'," she quipped, poking his nose.

"That's not true! I called you 'angel' for a while."

"Yeah. For, like, two weeks."

"Uhh…" She could hear the frown in his voice. "I think I called you 'melody' a few times."

"I don't remember that."

He gave a melodramatic huff and pulled her closer so she was practically in his lap. "Alright, Your Highness. I'll think of something else."

"Don't call me that!"

"Okay. Princess."

"Nooo…" she whined.

"Sorry, that's Chat Noir's special name for you."

"Shut up."

"Rude." He hummed thoughtfully, chin once more on her head as he traced little patterns across her arms. Then, quietly, he murmured, "Cherry blossom."

"What?"

"It's your pattern," he said. "It suits you. My cherry blossom. My midnight cherry blossom."

Marinette felt her heart melt into a warm soup which dripped into her stomach. "You're so sappy," she giggled.

"And yet you love me."

"Don't make me regret it…" she muttered, lifting her gaze lazily back to the stars. In the distance, she saw the figure of Chat Noir, picked out in moonlight, leap into the horizon. "He seems so lonely sometimes."

"Hmm?"

"Chat Noir," she said. "He seems lonely. Like...like the moon."

"The moon isn't really lonely," he replied. "It's surrounded by stars."

"But they're so far away," she pointed out.

His shrug made her body bob against his. "Comparatively, I guess," he said. "There's also the sun. You know, we can only see the moon because the sun shines on it. Otherwise it would be invisible all the time."

"The moon sounds like a moody teenager. Whenever it can't see the sun it throws a tantrum and goes dark."

He laughed. "That's one way of looking at it."

Marinette looked back to the moon, tried to imagine the crescent as sunlight turned silver by the night. Like the gleam on Chat Noir's outfit, the glint of his bell. "If he's the moon," she mused. "Does that make Ladybug the sun?" Because even though she didn't like thinking about Ladybug—it was difficult to separate your being into two, and talk about one as though it isn't also the other—Chat Noir and Ladybug were caught in a dichotomy, just like the moon and the sun.

"I think you're right," Luka said. "Chat Noir's important but—no offence to him—he needs Ladybug to, well, _be._ Like the moon needs the sun."

And, Marinette thought, he tends to mope whenever Ladybug isn't around or refuses to shine on him. But she didn't say that out loud because how would she, just Marinette, know that about their relationship?

"It makes them sound quite romantic," she said, but it felt wrong to think of them like that, think of them as romantic when they weren't. "The moon and the sun."

"Aren't they?" Luka asked. Not accusatory, or insulted like Alya or any other Parisians when the romance between their two heroes was brought into question. Just curious.

It still irked her somewhat, which she knew was ridiculous because, just like the rest of Paris, he had probably seen the articles and headlines and gossip columns about Ladybug and Chat Noir. Seen the rumours and the shipping wars and that _damn_ kiss Alya had put on the Ladyblog following Oblivio.

"No," she said, sharper than intended. Then, "What about Viperion? He's part of the team now."

At least, she thought he was. It had been a surprise to see him turn up to a battle a few weeks ago. Even more surprising to see her shock mirrored on Chat Noir's face. If he hadn't delivered the Miraculous, who had? But Viperion, sounding the tiniest bit nervous, like he was worried he would be sent home, explained how the box had appeared in his room along with a warning note. His help, however, had been invaluable. He was right; the akumas were becoming more dangerous. Each mistake could be fatal, could be final. Secretly, she was hoping he would be a good buffer between her and Chat Noir, that maybe Chat would flirt less with another man around. But it seemed nothing could dissuade him from his romantic endeavours.

"Is he another moon?" Marinette continued. "Or another sun? Or a star?"

"Another moon." Luka said. "He wouldn't shine very bright without Ladybug either."

"But without him, Ladybug might not be around," she countered. In their last battle, she knew she'd been struck or injured _or_ _worse_ by the way Viperion's face broke in relief after he yanked her behind a car as the akuma's ray blasted the ground she had just been standing on.

But Luka bit his lip and turned so her head was no longer tucked beneath his chin. "Maybe this space analogy is getting out of hand," he said.

"Maybe you're right," she agreed, and smiled when he rested his head on hers again and began rocking gently like a slowly falling leaf.

Marinette knew they couldn't stay much longer. Knew her parents would soon be insisting she go to bed, and that Luka would have to go home. But she wasn't ready for it to end, wasn't ready to leave the warmth of his arms or the moon's silver smile.

"You're my sun," she said, surprising herself because the words weren't meant to leave her mouth; they were meant to stay safely tucked in her heart. She blushed and closed her eyes when she felt him chuckle.

"You're my sun too," he said and kissed her hair.

"We can't both be the sun. Someone's got to be the moon."

"You know, the sun is a star."

She felt his chin move on top of her head as he looked up at the stars above them. Draco, Cygnus, Aquila. Glittering like frost.

"Maybe we're just two stars in the same galaxy," he finished.

Two stars, bound together in their own constellation, each shining with their own brilliance. She craned her head up to see his face, see the stars trapped in his eyes' night sky, and wondered if there were stars in hers too.

"I think you're right."


	23. Day Twenty-Three: Earth and Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Earth and Water, in which Ladybug goes for an evening run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry I missed the last two days. I just didn’t have any time at all to even think about these chapters, let alone write them. I’ll try to get back on track as soon as possible. 
> 
> Thank you for all of your support and comments.

**Day Twenty-Three: Earth and Water**

It was Sunday evening, and the dawn would bring with it the first day at Lycée. Thankfully, Marinette had successfully procured her place at her preferred one, the arts Lycée by the Louvre. Although she was looking forward to starting—finally, a school without Lila and her ridiculous stories!—there was trepidation too. What if she wasn't good enough? What if she somehow made so many egregious errors in her first week that they kicked her out.

What if they realised she was a fraud with no real talent in art after all?

Marinette shook her head as she sat at her desk, packing her bag for tomorrow. She wasn't a fraud; she'd gotten in on her own merits, and come tomorrow she would be accepted as someone deserving to be there.

Still, as excited, and nervous, as she was to starting school again and finally have something to do with her time outside of akuma attacks and the odd commissioned piece, it would suck having to spend evenings once again stuck in her room finishing homework. And so, after zipping up her rucksack and double-checking the outfit she'd laid out already on her chair for tomorrow, she clambered up to her bed and opened the balcony door.

"Fancy an evening run?" she asked Tikki, who was reading Marinette's new textbooks. _Textiles for Every Occasion._

The kwami perked up. "You know what to say!"

"Tikki, Spots On!"

Freshly invigorated, and hoping no one was currently looking at her balcony, Ladybug climbed through the trapdoor into the warm evening. She was lucky; the streets beneath were empty. And so, with the bright light of the full moon guiding her, she leapt off her roof, flicked her yo-yo, and _flew._

* * *

Paris had always been beautiful at night. After all, it was the city of lovers; to be beautiful at night was a requirement. In Ladybug's opinion, the most beautiful part of Paris at night was the Seine. And her favourite part of the Seine was the old, stone bridge near Notre Dame. It was here she eventually came to rest after swinging and leaping across the Parisian skyline, energy spent.

She settled down on the bridge, feet dangling over the edge, and watched the water distort the moon's reflection. Something about the way the river rippled and swirled had always calmed her. Its lilting rhythms and sighs stilled her heart and made her think back to simpler times, when all that mattered in life was the feel of her parents' hands around hers, the anticipation of ice cream from André's cart, and the sunshine glimmering on the water below.

Now, of course, it also made her think of music. Of gentle, probing melodies played with expert hands; of the sharp _sshhngg_ of fingers moving up strings; of soft chuckles and hums vibrating in a warm, beating chest. Of the houseboat moored further down the river, bobbing on the water, brimming with music.

Ladybug felt a too-wide smile slip across her mouth as her thoughts drifted to Luka. He had improved so much over the summer. It was strange to think that only a few months ago, at the height of spring, he'd been on the brink of having a breakdown over the guilt of having a monster for a father. Therapy had helped set him straight, escape his father's long shadow, and the realisation that Jagged Stone was his real father had pushed him into the light.

Not that Jagged Stone knew, of course, having disappeared shortly after they found out to perform a selection of shows in the South of France. And Luka wasn't sure he wanted to tell him.

"Ma doesn't want me to," he'd said. "Says he'd be a terrible father figure, which I can see. Besides, Jagged Stone's like a river. Flows where he wants. I don't think having a son he didn't know about would stop its course."

Marinette knew what he meant. Jagged was a river: wild and untamed, although Penny was doing a good job at reining him in. But Luka, steady, reliable Luka, was like a rock, and the river would simply pass him by.

Maybe, one day, things would change.

As Ladybug sat and pondered, she noticed a figure on the skyline, launching itself from roof to roof with the same joyful abandon she had earlier. At first she figured it was Chat Noir, but she noticed the figure didn't have a baton.

Viperion, then?

She wasn't sure what to think of the new hero. She trusted him, to some extent. It was difficult to have the same trust of him as she did Chat Noir as she simply hadn't known him as long. But he was friendly enough, if a little distant. Competent in his role, if somewhat hands-off in close combat. Clever, if hesitant to voice his ideas. She figured he was still getting used to the job, still developing his relationship with them, still finding his place in the team.

Then again, his power was reliant on his ability to stand back and observe, choose the right moment to reset, know what to change to fix the future. It wasn't a task she would choose for herself.

Soon enough, Viperion spotted her and, after a short hesitation, joined her on the bridge. He sat down, making sure to keep a bit of distance between them.

Had it been Chat Noir, he would have shuffled as close as he could.

"Hi, Viperion," she said. "What are you doing out?"

He shrugged, staring at the river as it snaked into the horizon. "Not a lot. Just wanted to get out for a bit. Lycée starts up for me again tomorrow. You?"

"Same," she replied. "Thought it'd be nice to make the most of today before my evenings are all taken up with homework."

"Yeah, I feel you."

She smiled. Even superheroes had the mundane nuisances of real life to contend with. "I'm sure Chat Noir's out here somewhere with the same idea. He must be starting Lycée tomorrow too. Or at least returning."

"Not like him to miss an opportunity to see you," Viperion commented.

"Yeah," she said sourly.

Viperion seemed surprised. He looked at her, head tilted, small frown playing on his lips. "Trouble between you and the cat?"

"You've seen what he's like. Always flirting and calling me nicknames…"

"I thought that was just part of your relationship with him."

"Unfortunately, it is. Doesn't mean I like it. I mean…" She sighed.

It felt strange talking about him. Because Ladybug didn't often talk to people, especially about her relationship with Chat Noir. And Marinette could hardly bring it up. But Viperion, he'd seen it first hand. She found herself _wanting _him to know. Because maybe someone would be on _her_ side. See her annoyance instead of Chat Noir's love-sickness.

"It's just so annoying!" she finished.

"So, it's not put on?"

"Huh?"

His frown deepened. "I assumed his flirting and you getting annoyed with him was just an act. You know, for the media?"

"The media don't seem to acknowledge my annoyance," she muttered. "They just see his flirting and decide we're meant to be together or whatever, with no regard to what I want, or how I feel. I mean...look, nobody knows this but…" She paused and glanced around for anyone who might be loitering and listening, but they were quite alone.

Viperion looked around too then leaned closer conspiratorially.

"I have a boyfriend," Ladybug said. "As a civilian. I feel so _bad _every time Chat flirts with me, but I feel like I can't tell him I'm seeing someone because, well, you know how unpredictable he can be. He might go off on one of his hissy fits and refuse to work with me. He's done it before."

Viperion pursed his lips and sat back, leaning against his hands. "Does your boyfriend know?" he asked. "That you're Ladybug, I mean."

"No, of course not. We have to keep our identities secret, remember?"

"I know," he said. "I think you should tell Chat Noir that you're seeing someone. It's disrespectful to your boyfriend. And to yourself. Chat Noir will get over it; his feelings aren't any more important than yours. I'd hate to see your partnership break down because of resentment on your side."

"But it might break down because of him."

"And that'll be his fault. Don't sacrifice your well-being because of his immaturity," he replied. "And remember, just because you're Ladybug doesn't mean you're not your civilian self too. You're still dating someone, and you shouldn't stand for people incessantly flirting with you. I have a girlfriend, and if someone tried flirting with me as Viperion I'd say something."

Ladybug hummed thoughtfully. "I think you're right," she admitted. "Okay, next time I see him, I'll tell him. But...you'd better be ready to pick up the slack if he acts out because of it." She nudged him playfully; he nudged her back with a laugh.

A _familiar _laugh that made her mind twinge, but she couldn't for the life of her work out _why._

"So, you have a girlfriend then?" she said. Because she loved romance, and even if she couldn't know _who_ she was, she still wanted to hear more. "What's she like?"

The change in Viperion was instantaneous. His cheeks took on the slightest pink hue, and his smile spread into a sort of love-struck grin. "She's _amazing_," he sighed. "She's creative and clever. Beautiful… She, well, she actually kind of reminds me of the Seine. Like, everything she is, all her emotions, her talents, her passions, they just flow together to create this living, _feeling_ person."

Ladybug looked out over the river and tried to imagine such a person that encompassed it so romantically. She would have to be pretty amazing, whoever she was. Part of her wondered if—or hoped that—maybe Luka spoke about her that way too. That maybe he might one day strike up conversation with a stranger somewhere and tell them that his girlfriend was beautiful and amazing and like the Seine.

She smiled. "That's so sweet," she commented. "She sounds wonderful."

"She is," he agreed. "I feel like the earth in comparison. Too rigid. Too...still."

"Well, I think it's important to have both in a relationship," Ladybug said. "A water person and an earth person."

Viperion chuckled. "Sounds like a fantasy book."

"I don't mean like magical people," she replied laughing. "I mean it's good to have someone a bit more, well, free-flowing and out there and adventurous, and then someone to anchor them, keep them steady. Without the river, the earth is dry. Without the earth, the river wouldn't exist."

"Very poetic," he said. "I see what you mean. I'm just concerned that I might be holding her back. I mean, I try to support her in her dreams and hobbies. I _want _to, but what if I can't?"

"I don't think you'll hold her back. And—" she smiled— "for what it's worth, I think you're like the water too. You're fast, fluid. You can adapt quickly, and you know how to alter the flow to help us win battles."

"As Viperion, maybe," he said. "I don't know what you're like as a civilian, but as Ladybug, I think you're like the earth. Steady and calm and anchored. _Immovable. _You make a plan and you stick to it."

"Maybe that's why we work well together," she said, giggling. "What do you suppose Chat Noir is then?"

"Fire," Viperion responded without pause. "He's bright. Powerful, but unpredictable. And, as you know, not easily tamed."

"You know, you're really observant," she said. "You read people so well...I'm worried if you ever met my civilian self you'd know I was Ladybug straight away."

"If I do, I won't tell," he teased, winking.

She giggled again. She hadn't noticed before, but he was so _easy _to talk to. As though they were friends from a long time ago, another life. "Your girlfriend is lucky to have you."

"I'm sure your boyfriend is lucky to have you too."


	24. Day Twenty-Four: Spring and Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spring and winter, in which Luka hangs out with Marinette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, it's a-me again! Back to some good ol'fashioned fluff. I was hoping to be closer to catching up at this point, but alas. No. Still... Hope you enjoy this evening's meagre offerings!
> 
> As always, thank you for your support and comments.

**Day Twenty-Four: Spring and Winter**

A week into Lycée saw the next akuma, unsurprisingly a school-based one. It was fairly weak, and Luka wasn't even sure Viperion had needed to be there. However, it had prompted him to take on a more combative role in the battle, which if anything helped defeat it more quickly so they could return to their lessons.

At the three week mark, Ladybug finally had a word with Chat Noir about the flirting. She didn't mention the boyfriend, but she had been firmer when she said, "You _have _to stop this, Chat Noir. It's getting totally inappropriate."

Chat Noir had laughed at the time, wiggled his eyebrows and made a comment about her making him work too hard, but the next akuma attack a few days later saw him rein in his flirtatious banter.

Luka still felt a little bad for Ladybug's boyfriend, even if the poor guy didn't know one of Paris' superheroes was flirting with his girlfriend, but at least she was making headway into getting Chat Noir to stop. As Viperion, he had taken to trying to stand in between the other two as a sort of barrier to reduce Chat Noir's opportunities, and Ladybug later relayed her thanks.

Still, as rewarding as being a hero was, the emotional drama and time-consuming aspect was beginning to drain him, so Luka was glad when, one Saturday, he had an entire afternoon with nothing to do but sprawl out in Marinette's room and noodle on his guitar whilst Sass snoozed in the soft leather case.

The first time he'd called it 'noodling', Marinette had found it so funny she began using the word for everything, and even joked about calling her future hamster 'Noodle'. Blissfully unaware that he was now debating the possibility of actually having a hamster called 'Noodle' with her, she was currently at her desk editing a few designs.

Laying down his guitar, Luka stood up and wandered over to peer over Marinette's shoulder. Her drawing was of a stylised female body wearing a full-length dress, but before he could look closely she slammed her hands over it.

"I'm not done yet!"

"Sorry!" He grinned, stumbling back to the chaise-lounge. He picked up his guitar again and played a quick snippet from a Jagged Stone tune—as cool as it was knowing the rock star was his real father, it did make listening to and playing his music a little disconcerting. "You haven't told me what your designs are for," Luka said. "One of your classes?"

"Yeah, it's an assignment for my design class," she replied with a sigh. She turned around, tip of one foot twiddling on the floor. "We're looking at finding and using inspiration, so we've got to design something based on the seasons. Winter's giving me some trouble."

"Anything I can help with?"

Marinette shrugged. "Unless you have an idea for a winter-themed dress that isn't just white and blue with snowflakes…"

"No…"

She released a short puff of breath, something between a huff and a sigh, then swivelled back to her desk.

"Does that mean you're done with the others? Can I have a look?"

"You can look at spring and summer," she said, leafing through her papers and drawing one out. "Autumn still need some refining."

Luka accepted the pieces of paper she held out to him and twisted around to illuminate the pictures. A similar female shape, but this time the dress was mid-thigh. Bold shades of red, yellow and orange coloured the dress in wide stripes, inter-spaced with white panels. Next to the dress, she'd sketched a beach hut.

It was bright and bold, and he could imagine someone—namely Marinette—wearing it on the beach with a floppy hat and large sunglasses.

"I like this one," he said, holding the paper up. "Summer, I assume?"

"Yeah." She nodded. I wanted something that wasn't just summer flowers, you know?"

"It's good." Smiling at her grin, he turned his attention to the second page. Another female shape wearing a knee-length dress. There were dabs of sky-blue watercolour down one side of the page, and shades of soft pink down the other. Tangles of branches in black ink stretched across the skirt, and petals scattered across the top. The neckline, redrawn bigger underneath, was scalloped like a cartoon cloud. It looked somewhat familiar, but he couldn't place why.

"This one's great," he commented, raising it. "It would really suit you."

"Thanks," Marinette said. She stretched forward to take the two designs from him and put them to one side of her desk. Then, as Luka leaned back into the chaise-lounge to pick out a few more tunes on his guitar, Marinette returned to glaring at her current work. After a while, she sighed melodramatically and let her head fall onto the desk with a _thump._

"You alright?" he asked.

She grumbled something unintelligible against her desk, then lifted her head to repeat it. "I don't know what to do... Everything's either too boring or too complicated. I was hoping to actually make this dress for the Christmas party Marie promised to throw us…"

"Maybe make a different dress for the party?" he suggested. "I still think the spring one would suit you."

"I can't wear a spring dress to a Christmas party! It would be weird."

"But you're not winter," he said. "You're, well, you're spring. Who cares if it's Christmas, melt the winter snow yourself."

Marinette gave a half-hearted laugh and shook her head. "I still need need to design something for my class though."

"Oh right." Luka frowned slightly and sat up straighter, his guitar's neck falling into his elbow. He wished he was more visual sometimes, even if it was just to help bounce ideas with her. But creating physical art had never been his strong point, let alone _designing._

All winter made him think of was snowflakes and ice, but as Marinette had pointed out already they would make for an uninspired design. He tried to imagine some way of incorporating winter lights into a dress, lamps glistening on frosted puddles, or string lights twinkling along someone's roof. Christmas trees sparkling through a window.

Christmas, he thought, might have been an interesting avenue.

And then he remembered why the second dress had seemed so familiar.

"Your spring design," he said, nodding at the paper next to her. "It reminds me of the dress you wore to that Christmas dance. You remember?"

Marinette's face twisted into something Luka couldn't quite read. Not quite sad, not quite embarrassed, not quite wistful. "I remember," she mumbled. "Ugh, it still makes me cringe though."

"How come?" he asked. "Because of the punch accident?"

"No. Well, yeah, but also…" She pursed her lips and averted her gaze. Her hands were in her lap, thumbs twiddling. "I can't believe I—I kissed you and then just ran away like that!"

Luka laughed. Was she still that embarrassed about that? He stood up and walked over to her, hands folded behind her back, smirk playing on his lips. "Oh yeah… But at least you can laugh about it now, right?"

"Right."

He stopped next to her and placed his hand on the back of her chair as he leaned down. "If I kiss you now, will you run away?"

Her face flared his favourite shade of pink, but she still managed to quirk a small smirk. "I can hardly run away with you blocking me in like that."

"Good," he said and bent down kiss her.

She giggled against his lips and pushed his chest. "I need to work," she moaned. "Stop distracting me!"

"You're no fun."

"Lukaaaa…" she whined as he kissed her again. "I don't do this when you're practising!"

"Maybe you should."

She giggled again and turned his face before he could go in for a third. "Maybe I should. Now let me get on with this."

Luka screwed his mouth to one side and pretended to think about this for a while. "Fine," he eventually relented, taking his hand off the chair. "For now," he added ominously. Then, flopping back on the chaise-lounge, he asked, "Whatever happened to that dress? The one from the Christmas dance?"

"I still have it somewhere around… Hmm." With her mouth pressed into a frown, Marinette stood up and stalked over to her wardrobe. She flung the doors open and began rooting through the bulge of clothes, so tightly packed Luka was surprised they hadn't simply burst out.

Finally, she pulled out the dress. It was as he remembered: pale pink with dark, delicate embroidering across the waist. But when she twisted the hanger around, silvery fabric fluttering out like a sail, he could see the angry red stain lingering on the back like a scar. Or a burn.

Or—his eyes flicked to the window, where the Paris gleamed beneath the crisp, autumn clouds—like a bleeding sky.

"I tried to sponge the worst of it out, but I couldn't shift it," Marinette said, running a finger down the stain. "We looked into getting it professionally cleaned, but it wasn't worth it. I don't really know why I kept it, to be honest. It looks like a mess."

"It looks like a sunset," he said. "Like a midwinter sunset."

She blinked and tilted her head as she turned to stare at him. "Why midwinter?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Apparently you get better sunsets in winter. I can't remember why...a friend of mine from Lycée likes photography and said something about dust in the atmosphere. Don't know how much of that is actually true though…"

She hummed quietly and looked back at the dress. He could practically hear the whirring of her brain as an idea formed, see the little cogs and wheels begin to turn, taste a strange anticipation as her eyes gleamed like the evening's first star and her mouth twitched.

"I have an idea," she said.

* * *

Marinette hadn't told him what her idea was. Whenever he asked her about it over the following fortnight, she would mime zipping her lips shut and then smirk.

"You'll see when I'm finished," she'd tease. "Patience."

Luka knew all about patience. Their courtship, after all, would never have left his daydreams and guitar strings had he not had the patience to wait out Marinette's crush on Adrien. Would never have blossomed into their easy romance had she not had the patience to pull him through his emotional breakdown.

But he didn't _want _to be patient this time. He wanted to see the dress again, see it fixed, see it _reborn_ like winter's blaze after summer's burnout.

Part of him wondered if he only wanted it finished because he might get the chance to see her wear it again, and fix the mistakes of that Christmas dance.

Finally—_finally_—one lunchtime, he received an excited text.

**M: i finished it! can you come over today? id like you to see it**

**L: I've got a guitar lesson after class but I can come over after that?**

**M: ok!  
M: mama asks if you want dinner**

**L: How could I say no?**

**M: :D xxx**

And so, cursing his guitar teacher for overrunning, Luka found himself mere hours later jogging down the street towards the Dupain-Cheng bakery. The door was shut, and the sign in the window displayed the message: _Sorry_—_closed. Please come back another time!_ But he spotted Sabine in the shop, clearing up the counter.

She smiled when she noticed him and quickly came to unlock the door. "Hello, dear," she greeted, ushering him inside. "So good to see you again. Marinette's up in her room, but she wants you to wait in the living room."

"Oh?"

"She's getting changed; I imagine she's concerned about you walking in and seeing something you shouldn't…"

Luka hoped his face wasn't as flushed as it felt. "I'll wait in the living room," he said. "Thank you, Sabine."

"Dinner's at six thirty. Now, go on up!" Patting his shoulder in a motherly fashion, Sabine smiled and motioned for him to go through to the flat.

Luka walked the familiar path through to the back of the bakery, where Tom, cleaning the worktops, grinned and waved, then up a few flights of stairs to the living room.

It had been a little strange the first few times at Marinette's. He was so used to his houseboat, with only a few stairs to the cramped rooms below the deck, that having proper flights and large spaces with furniture that wasn't bolted down was a bit odd. But it was nice, and the height seemed to suit Marinette. He wasn't surprised her room was at the top with its own little balcony; something inside her seemed to yearn for the sky, like there were clouds in her heart that longed for a home beyond her body's reach.

Marinette's room was directly above the living room. Luka tip-toed up the narrow staircase and knocked on the trapdoor, chuckling when she he heard a faint squeak of surprise.

"It's me," he called through wood. "I've been told to wait down here."

"What?" she yelled back. "No, I said...never mind. Come up!"

Luka cautiously pushed at the trapdoor; her voice had been emanating from above him and he didn't want to accidentally slam the door into her. But he found that she'd already moved back, so he opened it the rest of the way and ascended into her room.

The first thing he noticed were the buckets, lined up beneath the window next to a selection of bottles. Then the smell—something chemical which stung his nose when he breathed. Then he heard footsteps behind him and turned around to find Marinette standing on the other side of the trapdoor.

She was wearing the dress from the dance, and even though her hair was still in its pigtails, and she wore no make-up or jewellery, she looked just as beautiful as she had that evening.

"Wow," he breathed, stepping around the opening in the floor towards her. "You look great. You managed to fix it then?"

"Well, not quite." She was grinning as she pointed to the bottles behind him. "I had to use a lot of bleach to get the stain out, which obviously made the back white instead of this pinkish colour. Then, well…" Her grin widened as her teeth emerged to nibble gently on her bottom lip. She turned around, and Luka nearly fell down the trapdoor in surprise.

Where there had once been an expanse of silver-pink stained red, there was now an entire sunset: scarlet and orange and purple and gold. The sky on fire, each colour blurring into the next, the edges fading softly back into the cloudy hues of the original dress.

And, on top of the colourful backdrop, following on from the branches around the waist, she had embroidered more twigs stretching out across her back. But no leaves, no flower buds, just the dark branches like strokes of ink.

"Midwinter sunset," he murmured.

She turned back around; the sunset was in her cheeks. "Midwinter sunset," she said.


	25. Day Twenty-Five: Mermaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mermaid, in which Luka and Marinette sit in a pillow fort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm so late with this chapter. I don't have an excuse: I just suck. And sorry it's so short!
> 
> Thanks as always for your support!

**Day Twenty-Five: Mermaid**

It was the day after Hallowe'en, and Marinette was preparing for the 'Cleansing Move Night' she and the girls had organised every year since they were eleven. It was a tradition born when, after an entire evening of horror movies Alix had swiped from her parents' collection, Rose had been so traumatised she couldn't sleep until a Disney marathon.

Now, they would spend Hallowe'en watching scary films, and the day after cleansing their movie palate with kids films. This year, they were to be at Marinette's house, having spent the night before bundled in Juleka's room.

They'd slept in a pile of blankets and pillows on the floor. Despite Luka's offer to house her in his room, with that ridiculously hot crooked grin of his, Marinette had insisted on staying with the girls.

"I've known them longer," she'd said, prodding his nose to push his face away. "It's tradition."

"So you won't hang out with me at all?" The whimper he gave had been a little over-the-top and elicited a giggle from her.

"Nope."

But his room was right next door to Juleka's, and whenever their films reached a tense moment he would suddenly begin to play something totally inappropriate as loudly as he could. More than once, Juleka had punched the wall, and eventually stormed out of the room to berate him. By his laughter, she hadn't succeeded in being intimidating.

Marinette had felt a little bit bad that he hadn't been allowed to join in, and so had let him come over for a bit to help her set up—but the girls were firm in saying he could not join in because he wasn't a girl. He would have come by earlier to hang out during the afternoon, but an akuma attack saw that plan down the drain.

Thus, at 6pm, she was running around her room, hurriedly laying out snacks around the pillow fort she'd constructed. Luka, who had been banned from bringing his guitar, was plucking at the ukulele Tom had dug out of storage and offered to him.

No rich guitar chords now, just the joyful twanging of the ukulele. Despite it being a different instrument, with a different number of strings, he seemed just as proficient playing it.

"Once you know how music works, you can play most instruments," he said when she commented on it. "Well, as long as you know the technique. Guitar's not that different from the ukulele...just don't tell anyone I said that."

"Why not?"

"Because ukuleles are a joke to most musicians," he replied, playing a cheerful little tune. "But they're fun."

Finally, with everything ready, they decided to test out the pillow-fort-come-viewing-area while they waited for 6.30pm, when the other girls would arrive and Luka would be kicked out. Marinette leaned against his shoulder as he continued noodling on the ukulele, and eventually she began to recognise chord sequences he'd played on the guitar. There were a few tunes and pieces he returned to several times, a comfortable pattern for his fingers to fall into whenever he daydreamed.

She remembered when she used to take flute lessons, years ago now, and as soon as she learnt how to play Frère Jacques she would go through the entire thing every time she practised.

"What was the first thing you learned to play?" she asked.

Luka shrugged; his playing didn't slow. "I can't remember. Kids tunes, probably. Or maybe an easy rock song. Four chords of pop, possibly?"

"Four chords of pop?"

He played four chords in quick succession then grinned. "They're used in most pop songs. You know Pachelbel's Canon in D?"

"No…"

"Famous bit of classical music. Where the chords come from. Oh." The tune changed to something familiar, vaguely Caribbean that matched the ukulele. "I the entire soundtrack to The Little Mermaid. Not the first thing I learned, but I did pick it up pretty quickly."

"The Little Mermaid? I didn't think that was your sort of film."

"Hey, I like romance films about fish ladies as much as the next teenage guy! Besides, it was Juleka's favourite film as a child. She used to watch it all the time. Like, every day. Might be why we ended up on a houseboat, actually. You know, to be kind of mermaids."

"That's pretty sweet," she commented. "I didn't know Juleka liked it so much...but I do remember a couple of years ago she insisted on us watching it after Hallowe'en." She laughed awkwardly as she remembered that night. "The girls teased me so much about that film...kept saying it was just like me and Adrien."

She wasn't sure what she expected Luka to say to that. He might have laughed at how ridiculous she and her friends had been back then, he might have rolled his eyes at their silly antics, he might even have mumbled something in a quiet fit of jealousy—although she really couldn't see him react like that at all.

What she didn't expect was for him to stop playing and adopt a thoughtful look and tap his chin. "I can see why," he eventually said, dropping his gaze to her face.

Marinette pouted and gave him a light shove. "Don't say that!"

"What? It's true," he pointed out. "You know, the pining from afar, not being able to talk to him…"

Marinette slapped her hands over her face to hide the fierce blush flooding her cheeks. "Stooop. How do you even know all that…"

"You didn't hide it well," he said. "Aaaand Juleka may have mentioned a few things too… You know, before we were dating? She was trying to get my to give up on you because you were so in love with Adrien."

"Shut uuup," she whined. "It's so embarrassing…"

"You wanted three kids called Emma, Louis and Hugo—"

"Luka!"

"—and a hamster with undetermined name. I suppose that would be the kiss and the wedding at the end of the film."

"Well, luckily, I never made it that far," she mumbled.

Luka chuckled and wrapped his arm around her to pull her into his chest as he pressed a kiss to her hair. "Sorry. It's just...kinda cute now I look back on it."

"Ssshhh." She weakly slapped shoulder. "It's over now, anyway. No Little Mermaid ending for me and Adrien."

"Probably not a bad thing," he said. "You do know how the original story ends, right?"

"Umm…"

"I mean, the whole story was a bit different. I can't remember all the details, but I know it ended with the prince marrying someone else, and the mermaid gives him up and accepts her fate. She throws herself into the ocean and becomes sea foam. Or she might have turned into an angel thing? It was weird."

"That's...that's pretty sad…" Marinette frowned. She knew most fairy tales were quite different in their original forms, but she usually found it was due to unsavoury details being edited out for a younger audience. But at least the endings remained mostly unchanged. Still happy, the princess still married the prince, or the beast turned back into a man, or the prince found the scullery maid he'd danced with at the ball. But…

"That's the nature of mermaid stories," Luka said, shrugging again. "They don't usually end happily. In Scotland mermaids are called selkies, and instead of half-fish, half-human, they're seals that turn into beautiful women when they go on land and shed their seal skin. There are a few stories about men stealing a selkie's skin and forcing her to become his wife, and no matter how much the husband loves the wife, and sometimes she loves him back, but she always leaves in the end. Sometimes they have kids and she leaves them too. Sometimes she returns to the sea to be with her first husband, if she was married before."

"I prefer that story," Marinette sighed.

"You prefer literal kidnap over sacrificial love?" he teased, hand dropping to her waist, fingers pressing against her stomach. "You're a strange one."

"No, I mean—" she paused as she tried to work out exactly why she liked it more. "I mean it's nice that the mermaid—selkie—gets to go home again afterwards. Be with her actual husband. You know?"

"I guess. Not sure Disney would be able to twist that into a family-friendly film though," he joked. "The polygamy might be difficult to work around."

"Well, I still prefer it," she mumbled. She didn't really want to admit why. But it made her feel better about being compared to the mermaid. Because was some human prince, who stole her away when he stole her seal-skin, then Luka could be her true love, waiting for her return.

But she couldn't _tell _him that.

So, when he turned to her with that gentle, probing look, she buried her head against his shoulder again to conceal her blush. "You have to go soon, remember…."

"Sure I can't borrow a dress and pretend to be one of the girls?"

Marinette tried very hard not to picture Luka in a dress, but it was futile. It didn't help that the dress her mind conjured up was form fitting and sleeveless, and beneath his hoodie he was packing some impressive biceps.

"No!" she squeaked, pushing him. "Absolutely not! You have to go!"

"Fiiiine..." He let out a dramatic sigh and began standing up, forcing Marinette to dislodge herself from him. "If you don't want me, I'll go. Anyway—" there was a thumping from downstairs— "sounds like the others are here."

Luka left the ukulele on her desk and, with a quick kiss on the lips, he bade her goodbye. Not a minute after he'd disappeared down the trapdoor, Alya and the other girls burst into her room, arms crammed with bags of sweets, drinks, and DVDs. Soon enough, they were bundled together in the pillow fort as Rose inserted the first disc.

"Hope you don't mind, but Rose thought that a Disney marathon would be fun this year," Mylène whispered.

"Alya!" Alix yelled. "No phones during movie night!"

"But I need to get this blog post up!" Alya complained, ceasing her hasty typing to glare at her. "The akuma battle today was unreal! At least, I think it was...Viperion got away pretty sharp so I think he must have used his power. Who knows what he stopped this time?"

"I'll be more impressed when he learns to fight properly," Alix grumbled. "He just stands around and watches half the time…"

"That's because his power relies on watching," Marinette pointed out.

"Still…"

"I don't mind his fighting," Alya said, frowning at her phone again. "But his...existence has started up a rival ship! _Viperbug. Blegh. _I can't believe people would so quickly abandon the good ship LadyNoir for _Viperbug._"

Marinette rolled her eyes. Of _course _Alya was annoyed about the rival to her previous ship. Because all superheroes were good for was shipping wars, and that's all Paris cared about.

(She was exaggerating, of course. But it was so frustrating when half the headlines and _all_ of the comments were about who Ladybug should date.)

"Guys!" Rose cried. "Shh! The film's starting!"

No one was quite sure why, as a group of animated sailors began singing _Fathoms Below_, Marinette suddenly turned bright red and slammed her face into a pillow.


	26. Day Twenty-Six: Soulmates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soulmates, in which Marinette competes for Luka's attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, guess who’s still alive. That’s right, me!  
There are no words for how sorry I am I disappeared for, like, four months. Life was a little hectic. But, wedding’s over (so I’m Mrs Flare to you now), we’ve moved into a flat, and I’ve got a full time job like the real adult I’m pretending to be. But I’m determined to finish this soo… yeah. 
> 
> Short one to get back into things, methinks. Apologies, dear readers. Next one should be more interesting.

**Day 26: Soulmates**

Christmas had come and passed, and it took with it an armful of stress Marinette was glad to be rid of. In between designing and creating projects for her classes, finishing Christmas presents for everyone, and saving Paris from Hawkmoth, she barely had time to just sit and _breathe._

And yet, it was far less stressful than the previous Christmas. At least this year she could pool most of her effort into design instead of chemistry and English and history. At least this year she had access to her lycée's craft room with its state-of-the-art sewing machines and books upon books upon _books _of techniques and patterns and ideas, so making presents from scratch was easier. At least this year she had Viperion's help with defeating akumas, and with his time-reversal powers the battles seemed to go by much quicker and left her less exhausted. (Although poor Viperion always looked completely tuckered out—he had, after all, been in the battle for hours instead of five minutes.)

And, most importantly, this year she had Luka reminding her to take an afternoon to herself every now and again.

But with Christmas gone, and the awkward, festering period between Boxing Day until New Year upon them, Marinette finally felt she had time to do her own things again. To make clothes that _she _wanted to make for her _own _enjoyment; to hang out with her friends properly; catch up with her previous classmates who had gone on to other lycées; and plan dates with her patient boyfriend.

And so, one cold, crisp day, she was waiting for said patient boyfriend in their favourite cafe near the _Pont des arts. _She had nabbed a little table by the window, flanked by two, squashy sofas, and bought two mugs of hot chocolate—mint flavoured, of course—which now sat in front of her with small plates on top to stop the heat escaping. As she waited, she entertained herself with her phone, scrolling through a design blog in between texts from Alya.

**A: ugghhhhh this essay is such a draaag  
** **A: like im doing journalism not lit  
** **A: why is it due in january? i cant even enjoy christmas break becase of it**

**M: Whats it about?**

**A: journalism  
** **A: well the effects of  
A: like how rumours become widespread or whatever  
** **A: its interesting i guess  
** **A: like did u know that if u kiss under that tree in the troc the one with the weird roots then ull be soulmates  
** **A: or something like that**

**M: Sounds romantic. Have you and Nino kissed under it yet? ;)**

**A: maaaaaaaybe :P**

**M: Maybe play a bit of super penguino? ;)**

**A: ssshhhhh :P ;)**

Super Penguino aside, Marinette hadn't heard this story. She thought she knew most of Paris' secrets and rumours through swinging around as Ladybug, but this one had passed her by. Soulmates if you kiss under a specific tree?

It was ridiculous really. But she had always been a romantic at heart, and the idea of soulmates and true love, even if it was a silly superstition, appealed. She was still thinking about it when Luka appeared at the cafe doors, his arrival heralded by the little bell that rang as he entered.

"Hey, gorgeous," he greeted, falling onto the sofa and inclining his head to peck the top of her head.

Marinette grinned and quickly flung her phone into her bag then shuffled closer to hug him. "Hey! Oh, I got you a hot chocolate. How was your Christmas?"

"Alright," he replied, sliding one of the mugs closer to him and removing the plate. A ball of steam erupted from the mouth and hung for a moment like a cloud before dissipating. "Ma had a bit too much port and Juleka and I had to wrestle her into bed. But it was good. We got to facetime my grandparents in Scotland… How was yours?"

"Same as ever." Marinette removed the second plate from her own drink with another puff of steam. "Shop was open late on Christmas Eve as usual. Grandpa Roland and Grandma Gina came round. Gina's still here, actually. She goes back to Italy later in January… Oh! And you have to come around while she's here. She wants to meet you. Properly, anyway."

"Sounds good," he said. Then, after a long sip from his mug, "This is the best hot chocolate I've ever had in my life."

"I told you you'd like it."

He grinned and pressed a sticky, chocolatey kiss to her cheek, which she rubbed away grimacing. "So, what were you thinking about earlier? I saw you in the window before I came in, looking very thoughtful."

"Oh." Marinette flushed, and quickly picked up her own hot chocolate to hide her pink face. "Just something silly Alya told me…"

"Oh yeah?" he prompted.

"I...it's silly."

"You know I love silly. I'm dating you, after all."

"Hey!" she whined, giving him a playful whack on the arm.

Luka was, however, still holding his drink and nearly dropped it. He quickly put his hand over the mug lest any of it fly out then slowly turned his head to glare at her. "This is the best drink of my life," he said quietly. "If I spill a single drop of it I'll cry."

"That's dramatic."

"You clearly don't understand the bond between a man and his hot beverage."

"You're ridiculous."

"You love it." He quirked a crooked smirk and took another sip of his hot chocolate, batting away her hand when she reached forward to try and tip it over his face. He placed it back on the table. "Speaking of ridiculous, what's this silly thing Alya told you?"

Apparently, he wasn't going to let it go. Sighing, Marinette wrapped her hands around her mug, relishing in the feeling of warm ceramic against her relatively cold palms. "She told me about this tree near the _Trocadéro _and apparently whoever you kiss under it is your soulmate or something."

"Oh, is that all?"

"What do you mean 'is that all?" she demanded. "Soulmates are a very serious matter."

"Ah yes. The Marinette factor, where in some situations the word 'serious' is the same as the word 'silly'."

"Oh shut up."

He chuckled and lightly bumped his head against hers. "I'm teasing. But it's the sort of rumour that comes up all the time. I'm pretty sure there was a tourism campaign about kissing on the _Pont des arts_. And at the top of the Eiffel Tower. If it's scenic and it's in Paris then there'll be some romantic story cooked up around it."

"I know," she mumbled. "I just hadn't heard this one. It's not even the _Trocadéro _itself."

Luka shrugged; Marinette could tell his attention was slipping back to the hot chocolate.

* * *

When their mugs were empty, they left the cafe, arm-in-arm, and began strolling down the Parisian streets. Most shops were still closed - many of the boutiques wouldn't open again until the new year - but their windows were still brightly decorated with tinsel and baubles and paper snowflakes.

It hadn't snowed yet, to Marinette's disappointment, although Luka was pleased as when it was cold enough to snow it meant it was cold enough for ice to form on the boat were the Seine splashed onto the deck and turned the wooden planks into a death trap. But grey clouds were slowly gathering on the horizon, and brought with them a sort of dreaded anticipation.

Snow was fun. But the cold was something else altogether.

It was already too cold for her really. The wind was strong and icy, tugging at her pigtails and pulling her scarf straight behind her like a cape. She shivered and tugged the sleeves of her coat down so they covered her hands, and bunched the ends in her fists, essentially locking the warmth inside and saving her fingers.

Luka gave a whine of disappointment because prior to this he had been holding one of these hands and was now trying to hold her sleeve.

The Eiffel Tower reared before them in the distance like a ghost. Marinette stared at it, and as she stared, her eyes shifted and slighted on a patch just next to the tower, on the _Trocadéro. _But the trees were dead, and their bare branches too far away to see.

Luka was still trying to find a way to hold her hand through her sleeve so, bracing herself, Marinette slipped her hand free and laced her fingers through his.

"Do you believe in soulmates?" she asked.

Luka frowned thoughtfully for a while. His hand shifted and wrapped completely around her tiny one, shielding it from the cold. "Like...a perfect match?" he eventually enquired.

"I guess."

"I don't know. I don't think that can exist, you know. I mean, we're people, not puzzle pieces. We change."

"We don't change that much though," she said. They turned off the streets and onto a narrow footpath that ran towards the river. "A little, sure, but who you are in fifty years won't be completely different to who you are now. Right?"

Luka shrugged. "Maybe. Depends on life, I suppose."

"And what if you fit someone. And so when you change, you change together? So you still fit? My parents have been together for ages and they're still a perfect match."

"I suppose that's the difference between growing together and growing apart," he said. "But if you've put up with me for this long, and with everything that's happened… Well… If soulmates exist…" He faltered, one hand disappearing into his hair, the other fidgeting with her fingers.

Marinette squeezed his hand and the fidgeting stopped. "I know," she said. "I think we fit together pretty well. At least, for now."

"We'll grow together," he said.

Marinette didn't notice their slowing until they had come to a complete stop on the path, trees lining one side, the gentle rumble of the river on the other. The sun glinted on the water like crushed diamonds.

The _Trocadéro _was still at least a thirty minute walk away, and there were no Parisian landmarks here to capture the imagination of the hopeless romantics, no spots to mark your soulmate with a kiss. But Marinette didn't care. She tugged Luka to the shadow of the trees, where the winter sun filtered through the bare branches and gleamed on the damp grass. The stiff breeze rose colour in his cheeks, and whispered through her hair.

It didn't matter whether or not they were soulmates, or if soulmates even existed. They fit together, and she hoped, when as they grew up and changed, they would still fit.

She pulled her hand out of his grip and slid her fingers between his against, and smiled. "We'll grow together," she murmured.


	27. Day Twenty-Seven: Songbird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Songbird, in which Marinette and Luka have their one year anniversary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day I'll finish this...only three more chapters after this so I'm nearly there! With any luck I'll get it done before the one year anniversary of starting... 
> 
> Thank you again for the kind comments!

**Day Twenty-Seven: Songbird **

****Marinette was used to feeling upset whenever an akuma reared its magically-enhanced head. But this time she was particularly annoyed. This time, the akuma had not only interrupted a date, but an anniversary. _ Her and Luka’s _ anniversary. A year since the day she realised what she actually wanted, _ who _ she wanted, and found that he still wanted her too. 

But, alas, there was nothing to be done except find an excuse to get away from Luka and pummel Hawkmoth’s latest puppet into the ground (not too hard, of course. The akuma was still, after all, a victim.) And so, as the akuma’s shrill cry shattered the glass windows of the quaint café they’d found on the Seine, Marinette threw herself under the table and tried desperately to think up some way of escaping. 

Luka joined her on the floor, his lips pulled into a grim frown. “Are you alright? Did the glass get you?”

Marinette swept a few shards off her sleeves; fortunately nothing had fallen with enough force to even tear the fabric. “I’m fine. We should get out of here.

“Where are you, Thibault?” someone called, her voice drenched in syrup. “Looks like you were right, my voice _ can _ break glass!” - then, screeching, “And it’ll also break your _ skull _if you don’t reveal yourself now!”

Luka shuffled across the ground, avoiding the glass, and peered out from under the table. He quickly withdrew. “She’s looking the other way,” he whispered. “We can escape through the window. On three. One...two…”

“Three,” they hissed together and, taking a deep breath, Marinette bolted from her hiding spot. Without turning, although she heard the akuma’s startled cry, she jumped onto a chair then through the broken window. 

There was glass on the pavement too, and as she landed she slipped and fell onto one knee. A shard sliced through her jeans and skin. No time to fret; Luka landed beside her with far more elegance then grabbed her hand and ran. 

Something like an aria sounded behind them, smooth and silky and beautiful. But it turned into a wail, and then into a scream. Windows exploded around them; people dived out of their cars and ran too. But Marinette’s knee was beginning to throb and the blood stain on her jeans was growing. 

As soon as they turned a corner, she pulled out of Luka’s grip. “I can’t run anymore,” she said. “I’ll hide down there-” she pointed to a winding, narrow, _ empty _ road- “You keep going. She can’t follow us both.” 

Luka glanced down the alley, then behind her, and nodded reluctantly. “Okay. Be safe. I’ll find you when this is over.”

“You be safe too,” she said then, with a kiss on his cheek, she ducked down the side road and stooped behind a few large bins where she took a moment to fish a tissue out of her bag and press it to her bleeding knee. 

Tikki emerged from her bag moments later and looked worriedly at the wound. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Tikki. I just need to stop the bleeding. But first I need to stop that akuma. Tikki, Spo-”

“Wait!” Tikki cried. “Your knee’s still bleeding! You can’t transform with a wound like that or it’ll make it worse.”

“The Miraculous Cure will fix it though. No biggie-”

“But you’ll have to fight with your knee like that. At least bandage it first.”

Marinette frowned at the kwami, who matched her look with folded arms. There was no winning this. “Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll head home and put a bandage on, then we’ll defeat the akuma. At least she’s just breaking windows…”

But Tikki had already vanished. Back into the bag, Marinette suspected, stowing the bloody tissue in her pocket and standing up…

...only to find the akuma standing right beside her. She was tall, very tall, and elegant. Her long, thick hair was tied in plaits which fell past to her hips. Her dress was adorned in feathers, red and gold, and similar feathers formed a circlet which rested around her head. A flock of birds whirled behind her like tiny leaves.

“Not Thibault,” she sighed - it was oddly melodic. “But you’ll make a fine addition to my menagerie.” The akuma - Songbird, Marinette dubbed her - took a deep breath, head rearing back, and shut her eyes. She began to sing a high-pitched note, like two crystal glasses striking, which rang down the cramped alley and made Marinette’s whole body feel like it was vibrating…

The note ended abruptly with a shout of pain as something green caught the side of Songbird’s head and knocked her into the brick wall. 

A thump as something fell behind her. A warmth at her back. A prickle up her neck. 

“Come with me,” said a familiar voice.

Marinette looked up and behind her; Viperion stood here, his gaze somehow more intense than usual. She gestured her leg. “I can’t run.”

“I’ll carry you,” he said. He scooped her up as Songbird was stirring and sprang away. Down the alley, leaping and sprinting faster than she had ever seen him. 

Viperion had never been one to act with agency, was rarely hands-on with civilians, and yet here he was, clutching her to his chest, his warm neck against her face. Songbird was behind them, her shrills bouncing on the walls around them. But he didn’t look back, didn’t slow, just kept pressing on. As the akuma neared, a desperation set into his eyes and mouth. His usual calmness began to dissipate; he who watched, rewound, tried again infinite times only had one shot at this. He hadn’t activated his power yet; she could tell by looking at his bracelet.

“Hold on,” he murmured as they broke out of the gloomy alleyway and onto a sunny street. He swung sharply around a corner - Marinette had to grip his shoulders to keep from slipping out of his arms - and continued sprinting.

He didn’t stop, even when they lost Songbird, until they reached, amazingly, her house. But he couldn’t possibly have known she lived here, right? 

Apparently not. He looked down at her, still in his arms, and said, “You should be safe for a while here. Is this okay? Do you know where you are?”

“This is perfect,” she said. “I actually live there.”

He smiled - why was it so familiar? - and his gaze shifted. “Is your knee okay?”

“It’s fine. I just need to bandage it.” 

He nodded. “I should find the akuma again - before she causes any more havoc.”

But he still hadn’t put her down. If anything, his grip tightened, pulling her closer, and his mouth pulled down in the same way Luka’s did when he was worried or anxious. She felt his fingers moving against her shoulder and knee, as if trying to fidget. 

Finally, he remembered himself and carefully placed her back on her feet, his arms hovering around her in case she fell. Then, when he was sure she could stand without collapsing from her minor injury, he nodded again and flashed a warm smile that made Marinette’s cheeks flare up before he sprinted away. 

For a few moments, Marinette stood staring at the spot he had just been, one hand idly creeping up to touch her face. Why was she blushing? Why was her heart pounding? Why did her legs feel like blancmange?

Over a quick smile from a superhero?

Not just a superhero, her _ teammate? _

Marinette was shaken from her thoughts by Tikki nudging her hand. “Marinette, your knee!”

“Oh, right…” She squeezed her eyes shut and conjured up Luka’s face until her heart and blush calmed down in shame, then she limped as speedily as she could into the bakery. 

Fortunately, it was busy. Whether they didn’t know there was an akuma out or they were taking shelter, Marinette wasn’t sure. Nevertheless, she ducked behind the disorderly queue and sneaked through to the main house without her parents seeing; she didn’t want them suspicious that she had come home early from her date. 

After struggling to the bathroom to find medical supplies and bandaging up the wound as fast as she could - Tikki insisted the entire cut be covered so that the suit wouldn’t rub and irritate it - she called up her transformation and climbed out the window. 

Thankfully, no one below noticed her presence until she was mid-swing. Some cheered and clapped, others backed away fearfully into the nearest shop, afraid the akuma would suddenly appear. 

By the time Ladybug found the akuma - not difficult: she just had to follow the operatic shrills - Chat Noir was there, crouching on a roof and covering his (fake) ears whilst grinning slyly. 

“You call that singing?” he taunted. “Sounds more like _ caterwauling _to me...”

“Isn’t that an insult to yourself as well?” Ladybug smirked. 

“Maybe, but how could I miss the chance to use caterwauling, huh?”

“Yeah yeah. Where’s Viperion?”

Chat Noir nodded; Ladybug followed the direction indicated to find Viperion skulking on another roof, watching. 

Songbird, meanwhile, was still shrieking on the street beneath. Clearly, Chat Noir’s taunts were having no effect, or perhaps she just hadn’t heard over the noise she was making. Her collection of birds had increased, still fluttering around and above her like a golden flurry. Ladybug watched as the birds suddenly swerved and swarmed around a car, prompting the owner to throw open the window and make a run for it. He didn’t get far; the birds stopped him from escaping then Songbird sang a different tune. 

The man disappeared.

No, Ladybug realised. No, he had transformed.

She felt vaguely sick, as she always did when she knew how civilians were being affected by an akuma, and the horrible thought that Luka could be one of those birds only made the nausea worse.

“We can’t get too close,” Ladybug muttered. “Otherwise she’ll turn us into one of those birds, or worse. I don’t know if we have to hear the song in order to be affected, so plugging our ears might not work.” Her gaze shifted to Viperion. She pulled out her yoyo and brought up the communicator function. Soon enough, Viperion answered - Ladybug still wasn’t sure how his lute turned into a phone, but as long as it worked…

“I hope you have an idea how to solve this one,” he said quietly. “I was kind of in the middle of something…”  
Ladybug stumbled over her next words, as her mind suddenly recalled the protective grip and warm smile from earlier. Surely he hadn’t meant that… “I- uh- no. I mean…” She blinked hard a few times, cleared her head. “You’ll need to activate your power. We need to test what Songbird can actually do…”

“Now?” he asked. She nodded. “Okay. Activating in three, two, _ Second Chance.” _

“Chat Noir-”

“Way ahead of you.” Grinning, Chat Noir plugged his fingers into his ears and leapt into the fray. Ladybug wasn’t sure what his strategy would be; he could hardly fight with his arms incapacitated like that. Nevertheless, he gave it a shot. As he neared Songbird, he smartly jumped and kicked against a wall, span in mid-air like a drill, then shot foot-first towards the akuma. 

Before his foot reached her, Chat Noir disappeared in a puff of feathers. 

* * *

“Chat Noir-”

“Way ahead of you!”

“And I’m ahead of you,” Viperion called through Ladybug’s yo-yo. “You’ve tried that. It doesn’t work; she can transform you even if you have your fingers in your ears.”

“Then let’s try this!” Chat Noir exclaimed with gusto, grinning. With a surprising amount of enthusiasm, he leapt down from their perch hollering nonsense. Ladybug frowned as she watched, trying to work out what he was doing, then she realised.

He was drowning out the akuma’s song. And it seemed to be working; Songbird was trying to sing but Chat Noir wasn’t transforming…

_ Poof. _

She’d thought too soon, and her partner disappeared in a puff of feathers.

* * *

“Chat Noir-”

“Way ahead of you!”

“Wait,” Viperion called through the yo-yo. “Plugging your ears doesn’t work, and neither does speaking over her. I think we have to stop her singing altogether.”

Ladybug pursed her lips and scanned the scene again. Streets, empty bar the akuma and her flock of birds; abandoned cars; buildings shuttered against the threat. She squinted at Songbird, but nothing on her seemed to stand out as the object where the akuma could be hiding. The crown of feathers, perhaps, or-

“My Lady, maybe you should try your lucky charm?” Chat Noir suggested.

Ladybug shook her head. “I don’t know where the akuma is yet. I’ll only have five minutes-”

“No,” said Viperion. “While my Second Chance is activated, you have all the time in the world.”

She opened her mouth to disagree, but realised he was right. She had numerous chances to use her lucky charm correctly if she called it now; but only one if she waited. Hoping it wouldn’t break the connection with Viperion, she flung her yo-yo in the air and called, as loudly as she dared, “Lucky Charm!”

A tuning fork fell into her hands. What was she supposed to do? Give her a singing lesson? 

_ “Looks like you were right - my voice _ can _ break glass!” _

Ladybug gasped. “Viperion! Your harp, I need you to play it. Get her to sing something else, something that won’t turn us into birds or shatter our skulls!”

“Shatter our skulls?” Chat Noir repeated, vaguely horrified at the notion as Viperion nodded. 

“I’ll try,” he said and ended the call. Ladybug and Chat Noir crawled to the edge of their building to watch Viperion adjusting his grip on his harp. He began to play, too far away for her and Chat Noir to hear, but the akuma noticed.

Songbird screeched, “You dare mock me!?” 

The problem with Second Chance was that no one but Viperion knew how many times he had reset it. Ladybug had to wonder if he had tried several times to find the right tune to play - he had to choose something Songbird would sing along with - or if he had been lucky the first time. However, soon enough, the akuma was belting something out. A love ballad, maybe from a musical. 

The birds were joining in, tweeting and fluttering around swooping in some complicated choreography only they knew. At one point, they flew up, far above Songbird, to continue their routine with more space, affording Ladybug a better look at the akuma. 

More specifically, her hair. Where, near the end of the plait, something glinted.

Grinning, Ladybug nudged Chat Noir and murmured, “Be ready to catch something,” and slunk down from her perch. 

With Songbird well and truly distracted, Ladybug had an easy time creeping over. She still clutched the tuning fork, and when she was close enough she jammed it into the akuma’s hair. Immediately, Songbird stopped singing and cried out in pain. She tried to turn around, but the tuning fork had a fierce grip in her hair. Ladybug wiggled the fork around as Songbird prepared to sing a different tune until she finally found whatever was concealed inside. 

She grabbed it and hurled it high into the air, just as Songbird began to sing. An odd, tingling sensation ignited underneath Ladybug’s skin, like each hair was twisting and burning, then a voice cried out, “Cataclysm!” and a small amount of grey dust wafted down…

The singing turned into a piercing wail. Songbird was no longer a figure of feathers, but a teenager in a dress with thick tights. Ladybug quickly caught the akuma flapping around above her then threw the tuning fork and called for the Miraculous Cure. 

Birds disappeared, shattered windows fixed themselves, and Ladybug’s knee stopped twinging. Perfect.

The girl, Aimee, was horribly embarrassed to have been akumatized, and apologised profusely, explaining that she had been auditioning for her school’s musical and been told by one of the student directors that her voice wasn’t good enough. 

She refused all three heroes’ offers of lifts home and set off by herself, after Ladybug had attained that she wasn’t too traumatised by the events. 

Viperion was quick to leave. Ah, he had been in the middle of something, Ladybug remembered. And so had she. She bade farewell to Chat Noir, ignoring his offer to go and catch a real musical with him, and fled down the nearest alley to transform back. 

Back to her normal self, Marinette first inspected her knee - completely healed. The bandage had also disappeared - likely back in the first-aid kit she had taken it from. Now she had to find Luka. She retraced her footsteps to where they had split with the intention of running down the road Luka had taken, but she found him already there, looking most perplexed.

“Luka!” she called, waving. “Are you okay?”

Immediately, Luka brightened and ran towards her, relief spreading across his face. “I am now. What are you doing here?”

“This is where you left me, remember? I was hiding behind those bins.”

“But-” he faltered. “I, you...Viperion was carrying you.”

He’d seen that? He’d seen how Viperion had been holding her? Did he see the way she blushed afterwards? 

“That was nothing!” she blurted. “I-he-see...my knee and he was...the akuma appeared and, uh-”

“You’re babbling,” he said, laughing. “I haven’t heard you babble like that since, well, Adrien. Wait-” his smile widened into an amused smirk- “do you have a crush on Viperion?”

That cursed blush was trying to crawl back onto her face. Marinette tried to force it down. “No! I’m dating you, I can’t have crushes on other people. Let alone superheroes!”

“It’s pretty normal,” Luka said, shrugging. He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Like having a celebrity crush. You’re allowed to have a celebrity crush on him. Just, you know, if he makes a move then-”

“Then I’ll tell him I’m happily taken,” she finished, grinning. 

“Yeah, then tell me so I can kick his butt for hitting on my girlfriend.”

“Luka!”

“I’m joking!” he said. “I know you can take care of yourself. Now, what do you reckon the chances are of our hot chocolates still being at that café and actually _ hot?” _

“What is it with you and hot chocolate?”

“What can I say?” He laughed and snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his side. “I’m a man of taste.”


	28. Day Twenty-Eight: Witches and Cats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Witches and Cats, in which Luka wears a cool hat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, apparently I’m still alive, just about. I swear I’ll finish this eventually. Just two more chapters after this and I’m finished. Then maybe I’ll write another...we’ll see. As always, thank you for all of your kind comments; I promise I do read and appreciate them all. I just suck at replying…

**Day Twenty-Eight: Witches & Cats**

It was a warm June day and Luka had just been handed a tray laden with lemonade and cream pastries by Marinette’s parents to bring up to her room. 

“She’s buried herself in work again,” Sabine said as she popped a sprig of mint in each glass. “I’m not sure what this project is for; she’s already finished her school assignments.”

“See if you can persuade her to go outside for a bit,” Tom added. “Just on her balcony, even. It’s too nice a day to be stuck inside.”

And so, more slowly than he would have liked, Luka made his way up to her room. He had to knock a few times before she heard and opened her trapdoor, as he was unable to push it open whilst carrying the tray. 

Marinette seemed surprised to see him at first - odd considering she knew he was coming - but quickly grabbed the tray so he could climb up the rest of the way more easily. 

Her room was a mess. Her mannequin was swathed in various scraps of black material, rolls of fabric littered the floor; pins glimmered in a patch of sunlight; spools of thread and reams of ribbons covered her desk. Definitely a project.

“What are you making?” he asked as she cleared away a few bobbins to make room for the tray. He picked up a fluffy black triangle sewn onto a hair clip. “Hallowe’en costumes?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Gotta get a head start.”

“It’s June.”

“Hence I said head start.”

“Ah.” Luka nodded, as if he knew exactly what she was talking about, then frowned. “No, I’m not with you. Isn’t June a little...excessive? Even for a head start?”

“No. You see, if I leave it until Autumn, then school will have started and I won’t have enough time to make these costumes  _ and  _ do my assignments  _ and  _ have a life  _ and _ , you know, everything.”

“Oh. That makes sense, I suppose.”

“The sooner I get them mostly done, the more of summer I can enjoy! I was kinda hoping June would be rainier…” 

“What costume are you making? A cat?”

“Kind of.” Marinette held up what Luka had first assumed to be a pile of scraps but was actually a skirt or dress. “Adrien’s got intel on Chloe’s party and he’s making us all go. Her theme is going to be a magical masquerade.”

“She already has a theme? It’s June!”

Marinette shrugged. “Chloe’s planned out, like, every birthday, Christmas, Hallowe’en and New Years party for the next ten years. Anyway, Adrien had this idea yesterday of us going as a coven of witches, so I’m making Alya and me witch costumes, and Nino and Adrien are our cat familiars.”

“Naturally,” he replied. “Sounds pretty fun.”

“Do you want to be a third familiar?” Marinette asked. “You’ll have to match the rest of us.”

“I don’t know - won’t that throw the numbers a bit? Two witches and three familiars?”

“Well...Oh!” Grinning, she grabbed a pointed hat - cheap looking, likely from a shop - and jammed it on his head. “Another witch!”

“A male witch?”

“Witches don’t have to be girls,” she said, tutting. “Ooh, I think I have an idea for you...vampiric but not a vampire.” As she spoke, she unearthed a sketchpad from beneath a pile of papers and flipped it open to a blank page. “And I can make you your own familiar! I’ve been practising plushies. I can make you a little black cat so you’re not left out!”

“Sure you’ll be able to get all this done?”

“Pfftch, yeah,” she said, rolling her eyes. “That’s why I’m starting in June.”

“Fair point. Okay, here’s the deal. You have another-” he checked his watch- “forty minutes to do costume stuff. Then, we’re going outside before  _ you  _ turn into a vampire.”

“Don’t be silly, Luka. That’s not how vampires work.” Nevertheless she sighed and grabbed one of the lemonade glasses. “But fine. You have a deal.”

* * *

Summer came and went in a haze of lazy afternoons, ice creams by the Seine and star-gazing. They spent their last day chilling at a public swimming pool, where Marinette spent far too much time gritting her teeth as Lila showed off a bikini that had been custom made for her by Donatella Versace as a thank you gift for some nonsense she’d clearly made up. But her stories had had less effect than usual: Juleka looked wholly uninterested; Rose was more concerned with the shade of pink than the story; and even Alya’s smile was drooping with doubt. 

The next day, school started up again, and their dates were restricted to whatever little time they had between homework and rehearsals. Luka had nearly forgotten about the Hallowe’en party when one day in mid September she asked what his favourite animal was. 

“Uh, I don’t really have one,” he said, trying to wave away Sass who was listening in on the phone call. 

_ “You have to!” _

“Where’s that rule?” he asked. “I don’t remember it.”

“ _ Haha. Seriously, I need to know. Just pick something! It’s for your costume!” _

“Uhh…” Looking around for some source of inspiration, he noticed Sass pointing at himself with his stupid, tongue-sticking-out smirk. “A snake?”

_ “Perfect.” _

“Why did you-” he began but she’d already hung up. Luka frowned at his phone then sighed and threw it across his room to his bed. “Odd.”

“I’m offended you didn’t think of a ssssnake, sssstraight away,” Sass said, settling down to lounge across his pillow. “Honesssstly.”

“You’re not really a snake though, are you,” Luka pointed out. “Just...snake-looking.”

“Ssssstill.”

* * *

On Hallowe’en, after helping Anarka transform the boat into a zombie infestation to scare the local kids, Luka found himself in Marinette’s bathroom with a bag of clothes before he was even allowed to say hello to her. He couldn’t help but be reminded of what he considered to be their first date - sort of - when she’d taken him to the Christmas dance and kissed him on the doorstep. Sure, she’d also been humiliated by Chloe, infuriated by Lila, had the dance ruined by an akuma, and then ignored him for several days afterwards, but he could still remember the kiss fondly. 

He wondered idly if she still had the dress, the punch stain covered up with red and orange dye as part of some fashion assignment. He wondered if it even still fit her as that had been a year ago, and formal fabrics were often unforgiving to body measurements changing by even a centimetre. He still had the shirt and jacket somewhere in his room, though he imagined it might be ever so slightly snug around the shoulders now. It was still the nicest shirt he had.

Or, one of the nicest, as he had just pulled out from his bag a new shirt. Bright white and billowing, it had no buttons but instead an extravagant ruffle around the neck and cloud-like sleeves. The cuffs featured small, turquoise beads which fastened tight around his wrists, and more ruffles spilling over his hands. Very  _ olde worlde _ , very  _ vampiric.  _ If it wasn’t for the wide-brimmed hat he could well have passed for a vampire. 

The waistcoat and trousers were black and form fitting, sparsely decorated with shimmering turquoise patches like scales, and around the conical centre of the hat a snake had been stitched coiling up with its tail flicking up at the top. His cloak was also black, but patterned lightly with scales all over, and fastened to the side with a little enamel brooch in the shape of a snake.

Finally, at the bottom of the bag was a box in which he found a pair of shoes. Smart black ankle boots, perhaps a little girly but he figured they would match. And, tucked into the tissue paper, a note reading,  _ Late birthday present for you because I can’t make shoes xx _

By the time he had managed to slip the outfit on and fasten everything, he could hear footsteps outside the door, then suddenly a loud squeal.

_ “Giiiirl! I am digging the skirt. And those ears! Adorable.” _

Ears?

Luka emerged from the bathroom, holding his hat in place on his head lest the doorway knock it off, and found Alya, Nino and Marinette loitering in the hallway, all in costume. There was clearly an animal theme going on; Nino was a head-to-toe in grey with silvery tufts at his wrists and neck, and Marinette was trying to pin a furry tail onto the back of his outfit. Alya’s black dress had similar fur details: a great swath of it swept across her shoulders, covering the top half of her chest, and her boots were lined with silver fur as well. 

And Marinette…

The skirt was fantastic, he gave Alya that. The dress itself, also black, was slinky and ended mid thigh where it exploded into shreds and tufts. Her hat had a pair of little ears sticking out of it, and from her back sprouted wings of black gauze and purple glitter.

Alya noticed him first and gasped. “Wow! Check those scales! You look so cool!"

“Aww yeah, dude.” Nino grinned, finally standing still long enough for Marinette to finish clipping on his tail. “Kinda wish I was a male witch as well now…”

“You’ll feel better when Adrien gets here,” Alya said. “He’s going full cat, remember?”

“Do you like it?” Marinette asked, hurrying forward to straighten out his sleeves. “I thought you’d like something a little more flamboyant than just a normal shirt…”

He silenced her with a quick kiss. “I love it. Perfect amount of flamboyance.”

“You’re not quite done yet,” she said. “I’ve got masks for everyone too. It  _ is  _ a masquerade ball... But I thought it would be nice for us all to see each other without masks first.”

“Just in case there’s anyone else dressed up as a wolf-witch at the party?” Alya said, winking. 

She laughed, but Luka thought maybe Marinette had a point. After all, no one recognised him as Viperion when all that was hiding his identity was blue spandex and a mask. 

“So, why the animal-witches?” he asked. 

Marinette shrugged. “I thought it would be more interesting than just witches. Also, Alya and Nino wanted to be a pair, but I didn’t want to be a pair with Adrien and you didn’t want to be a familiar so I made sure only their costumes matched. Adrien wanted to just be a pure cat, and my favourite animal is a hamster but they’re not very scary so I went with a bat instead.”

“Hamsters with wings,” Alya added. “I thought about being a fox initially but then, uh, I thought a wolf would be more witchy.”

Adrien arrived not long later, already decked out similarly to Nino. However, his costume was black and his tail much more slender. A pair of fluffy ears were perched on his head. When they had all gathered, and Marinette’s parents had taken a few photos, they donned their masks and clambered into Adrien’s limo.

The masks were all carefully designed as well, matching each costume perfectly. Luka’s was almost a snake’s face, with scales around the eyes and two fangs curling down either side of his mouth. And, as promised, Marinette had also crafted a small snake-tailed cat toy dangling from a detachable strap. 

“It doubles as a bag,” she said. “For your phone, if you wanted. I forgot to put pockets in your trousers…”

“It’s perfect,” he replied. Not just for his phone, but it was a nice spot for Sass to hide along with a small tub of his favourite boiled eggs. “Thank you.”

The party was, as expected, in the Le Grand Paris hotel. One of the rooms had been cleared out then decorated with mirrors, cobwebs and coloured lights. A side table groaned with food and punch, a band played ambient rock on the erected stage, and from the ceiling there hung an impressive chandelier. 

Chloe met them at the door wearing an impressively glittery dress with huge wings dripping with crystals. Her mask was likewise sparkly, flashing rainbows across Luka’s face when she turned to look at them. 

“You’re lucky I’m letting you in, Dupain-Cheng,” she hissed, stepping aside. “And your scruffy boy-toy too. Just don’t ruin my party with your lameness, okay?”

Marinette only rolled her eyes and walked on through. “She actually thinks you’re super good-looking,” she said when they were out of earshot. “I heard her telling Sabrina once.”

Luka wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, but fortunately he didn’t have to as Marinette was quickly distracted by a few of her classmates. Their costumes varied from impressive - Alix’s zombie with a mask of maggots which wriggled as she walked - to lazy - Kim’s brown onesie and face paint he called a werewolf. They spotted Lila by the punch bowl, also dressed as a witch, looking very sour-faced. 

Only Adrien went to talk to her; Alya and Marinette dragged Luka and Nino to the dance floor as the band had clearly decided they’d had enough ambient rock and slipped into something fast-paced and exciting. 

It was only inevitable something would go wrong.

* * *

Ladybug was first on the scene. She’d heard the akuma when she’d gone to the bathroom, and looked out the window to find beams of light cutting through the dark streets. Too bright for a torch, too fast for a car. 

The akuma was tearing through an alley when she tracked it down. A motorcycle, but the figure on it was completely aflame. She’d already sent messages to both Viperion and Chat Noir, and this akuma looked too dangerous to fight alone, so she made sure her yo-yo could be traced by her teammates and followed it. 

She was sprinting across a rooftop, along the edge so she could watch the streak of flame beneath as she ran, when Chat Noir dropped next to her and matched her pace.

“Bit of a cold night for a late run, Milady,” he said.

“At least we’ve got him to keep us warm,” she replied, nodding at the akuma beneath them. He hadn’t given indication of name, goal, or anything, so she had dubbed him Hot Head in her mind. So far, Hot Head’s only plan seemed to be to race around the streets, spooking trick-or-treaters.

“What’s his deal?”

“Don’t know yet.”

“He’s looking for something.”

It was Viperion, appearing between Chat Noir and herself. “He’s not heading anywhere in particular,” he continued, frowning as he stared at the akuma. “If he was he wouldn’t be meandering like this. I think he’s looking for something or someone.”

“Or just going for a joyride,” Chat Noir said.

“Or that.” Viperion nodded. “But akumas usually have a goal in mind.”

“Not always. Don’t you remember-”

“There, look! He’s stopping!” Ladybug cried before they could dissolve into another argument, as was happening more often than she would have liked. 

Hot Head coasted to a halt on the next street in front of a group of kids and hopped off his motorcycle.

“Still think my costume is lame  _ now _ , Bruno?”

“Pascall?” one of the boys gasped. “What happened to you?”

“Wait, he’s a kid?” Chat Noir whispered. 

“A kid who wanted a better costume,” Viperion added. “Hawkmoth’s really stretching with this one.”

“How do we defeat him?”

“You could start-” growled a voice- “by not talking so loudly.”

Hot Head. Apparently, his motorcycle could fly as he was hovering before them, scowling behind the flames. 

“As far as costumes go,” said Chat Noir, mouth twitching into a smirk, “yours isn’t very  _ cool.” _

“And as far as jokes go,” Viperion muttered, “yours aren’t very funny.”

Chat Noir turned to glower and would have been burnt to a crisp by fireball shot Hot Head’s hand had Ladybug not pushed him out the way. Another ball of fire whizzed over their heads, so close Ladybug thought her hair would ignite. 

Hot Head grunted, and Ladybug looked over to see that Viperion had chucked his lyre at him like a frisbee. She used the opportunity to scramble off of Chat Noir and study the akuma, but there wasn’t much to look at. He really was just a man-shaped being made completely of fire, now glaring at Viperion and preparing to shoot another fireball. 

“Go to the Seine,” she whispered to Chat Noir. “Find an empty spot away from civilians and send me the location. Maybe we can cool him off there.”

“Whatever you say, milady,” he replied, grinning at her before extending his baton and vaulting into the night. 

Ladybug drew back her yo-yo and flung it forward, wrapping it around Hot Heads arm and pulling it back, just in time to send his charged attack shooting up into the sky instead of at Viperion’s head. 

“So, you’re solid underneath that fire,” she muttered to herself. He still had a physical body, which meant the object concealing the akuma was somewhere inside the flames. She reared her yo-yo back again, as Hot Head had turned his attention back to her, and this time hurled it to wrap around his waist. Fortunately, their miraculous weapons were fire-retardant as well as nearly indestructible, and so with a tug on she pulled Hot Head off of his motorcycle and onto the concrete roof.

Then, Ladybug grabbed Viperion’s arm and began running.

“I hope you’ve got a plan,” Viperion said, glancing behind him at the akuma. “He won’t be down for long.”

“Water,” she replied. “Chat Noir’s gone ahead to the Seine. If we can put out his fire then we’ll stand a better chance at deakumatising him.”

“There’re a lot of civilians ‘round the Seine.”

“I know. I’m hoping Chat Noir can find an empty spot.”

Viperion looked dubious but said nothing. They hadn’t been running long when Ladybug heard the whizz of a motorbike and looked back; Hot Head had recovered and was giving chase. She looked at her yo-yo, but there was nothing yet from Chat Noir. 

Suddenly, a burst of flame roared beside them. But it didn’t dissipate into the night. Instead, it spread like a snake, wrapping around them, trapping them in a circle of fire. Ladybug backed away from the nearest side, her back bumping into Viperion. 

Hot Head was still on his motorcycle. She could see the shape of a smirk in the flames as he rode in circles around them. “You're trapped now, Ladybug!” he yelled. “What you gonna do?”

Ladybug pursed her lips and looked around for a way out, but she couldn’t see anything. As long as they were surrounded by fire, and had Hot Head charging around them, they wouldn’t get away. “This,” she said, flinging her yo-yo into the air. “ _ Lucky Charm!” _

Her yo-yo returned along with a large canister. She opened the lid and sniffed - petrol. 

“You know I trust you, Ladybug,” Viperion said, frowning at the canister. “But I don’t see how fighting fire with fuel is going to end with us alive. So just in case…” He twisted his bracelet and murmured, “ _ Second Chance.” _

Ladybug always felt in two minds whenever he activated his power. On the one hand, it was good to know that if they made a heinous mistake, it could be erased. However, she didn’t like not knowing which timeline she was in, not knowing how many times she had failed and been reset, not knowing what stupid or crazy things she had done that only Viperion remembered. 

She cleared her head of these thoughts. Time was running out and they needed to get  _ away _ from Hot Head before their transformations dropped. She studied the area, ignoring Hot Heads laughs and taunts, but came up empty. She couldn’t see anything that would help, any way the petrol canister could do anything except make the fires worse.

“Any ideas,” Viperion asked. 

“No. Have you reset yet?”

“No.”

Her earrings beeped. _Four minutes._

Feeling desperate, Ladybug looked around again but she couldn’t see anything at all that might be of use. They were on the roof of a tall building with nothing nearby to wind her yo-yo around and swing them away from the fire. She stamped the ceiling beneath with her feet; it was rock hard and fire proof, and they had no weapons to break it with. If they Chat’s baton they might have had a chance of breaking through it eventually, but it would take longer than the four minutes they had. 

_Three minutes now_.

She glared at the petrol can, willing for it to psychically tell her what on earth she was meant to do, but the only use she could think of was to help the fires burn. If the fire was taller, brighter, it could act as a beacon. 

But who would see it? Trick-or-treaters on the street? Perhaps the police, but what could they do against an akuma? Chat Noir? But he was too far away, and might not realise they were in danger. She thought about sending him a message, but she knew he wouldn’t notice. 

_ Two minutes. _

They were running out of time. Her transformation would drop soon and her identity would be exposed. Maybe she could use the petrol canister to douse her face in fuel and burn it off to keep her face from being seen. 

“We’re going to change back soon,” Viperion said quietly. “I don’t think we’re going to get out of this one.”

“I think you’re right,” Ladybug murmured. They weren’t getting out of it. There was no way to escape, and her Lucky Charm had failed to provide a miraculous solution. All she could do was hope she could hide her face from Hot Head, and thus Hawkmoth. But that wouldn’t get rid of the fire ring.

_ One minute. _

Then she understood. 

“Viperion, turn and face me, so your back’s to Hot Head.”

Looking vaguely baffled, Viperion did so. She hadn’t noticed how tall he was. “Have you thought of something?”

“Sort of, but it’s risky. When we detransform, you have to keep facing me, so that Hot Head can’t get a glimpse of our faces.”

“But what if I know you? Or you know me?”

“It’s Hallowe’en,” she replied with a small smile. “I’m wearing a costume.” There was a tingle in her ears, and she knew it was time. “Get ready to feed your kwami as quickly as you can,” she said then, as her transformation began fading in a haze of pink sparkles, she opened the canister and poured petrol into the fire, running around to douse the entire ring. 

The fire roared and surged up into the night, creating a tall wall of flames around them. Marinette hastily returned to the centre, staring at the ground, and fumbled to grab a cookie from the small black bag dangling from her shoulder. She gave it to Tikki whilst listening closely to Hot Head’s angry one-sided conversation. 

“I can’t see them!" ... "The fire’s in the way!” ... 

“Come on,” she muttered. “Put it out.”

Still, she stared at the ground. Viperion, sans costume, stood in front of her but she could only see his shoes. Black boots, ankle length. Surprisingly feminine. Surprisingly familiar, too. 

“Has your kwami got something to eat?” she asked. 

“Yeah, he’s eating now,” he replied. His voice was also surprisingly familiar. So much so that Marinette couldn’t help but look up and came face to face with a man wearing a serpentine witch costume.

A sound like something caught between a yell and a gasp escaped her mouth, prompting Luka to look up as well and make a similar noise. If it wasn’t for the fact he was wearing an outfit  _ she _ had made she might not have realised. But now that she saw him, she realised it was ridiculous she hadn’t recognised him before.

Tikki choked on her cookie, whereas the snake kwami, Sass, merely looked amused as he swallowed the last of his food. “I’m ready when you are,” he said in a cool, smooth voice. 

Marinette blinked hard a few times then tried to look sideways without moving her face. The fire was still burning strong and tall, but she could just make out Hot Head stalking around the edge of the ring. 

Finally, the fire started disappearing. It didn’t burn lower, but instead the circle uncurled and surged back into Hot Head’s hand so that he could look at them. 

“Now!” Marinette cried. She and Luka both called their transformations back and hurtled away through the gap in the flames, nearly banging into Hot Head in the process. 

Immediately, Ladybug’s yo-yo beeped - a message. She opened it hurriedly to find coordinates sent by Chat Noir. After showing it to Viperion - or Luka, she supposed - she tucked it away and leapt off of the building. 

“We’ll be harder for him to spot down here,” she explained as Viperion landed next to her. They made their way towards the Seine by darting down dark alleys and unlit backstreets, avoiding both Hot Head, still roaring around on rooftops, and trick-or-treaters who might otherwise slow them down or inadvertently put themselves in danger.

Ladybug was aware of how awkward the silence was as they ran. Not that they often talked while in the midst of akuma battles, but this time the silence was so thick and heavy it settled around her like a cumbersome blanket threatening to make her trip and fall.

But what was there to say? 

What wasn’t there to say?

He knew. And she knew that he knew. And she knew. And he knew that she knew. What would Master Fu think? What would Luka think? What if they couldn’t be together? What if others found out and jeopardised the team? What if just  _ knowing _ jeopardised the team? What if she wasn’t allowed to be Ladybug anymore? Or Luka wasn’t allowed to be Viperion? What if-

“There he is,” Viperion said, interrupting her thoughts. They had arrived at a dark stretch of the Seine. The silhouette of Chat Noir was perched on top of a narrow bridge. “And there  _ he _ is.” He pointed above them where something was flickering on a nearby rooftop. 

Ladybug sprinted towards Chat Noir and checked out the area. Nothing much around, just the bridge, too narrow for cars, and the night-black river flowing beneath them. The streets on either side were empty, lit only by sparse lamps. 

“This would be such a romantic setting for a date, don’t you think?” Chat Noir said, sighing as he jumped down gracefully beside her. He glared at something. “Oh, you brought him too…”

Ladybug opened her mouth but couldn’t conjure up anything by the word, “Yes.”

“Don’t stand too close,” Viperion said. “We don’t want to get trapped again.”

“It’s not easy to stay apart,” said Chat Noir. “This bridge is too narrow, and my adoration for my lady is too wide.”

Viperion had never glared at Chat Noir before now. It was almost startling seeing his face sour and his mask tighten around his narrowed eyes. He really did look like a snake ready to bite.

“The bridge is too narrow for Hot Head to try his ring of fire again,” Ladybug said, stepping away from Chat Noir. 

“And I’m too smart to try it again,” said Hot Head. With a sense of  _ déjà vu _ , Ladybug turned and found him floating just next to the bridge, his arms folded across his chest. Before she could react, he extended both of his hands and sent a barrage of fire bullets towards her which she only just managed to dodge by leaping to one side. 

Viperion jumped in to take up the mantle along with Chat Noir, although their fight was more a matter of Hot Head trying to burn them whilst they attempted to not get barbecued. Nonetheless, it gave Ladybug the opportunity she needed to summon her second Lucky Charm of the day. 

“A fishing rod?” she said, holding up the small, yellow toy with a frown. “What does this mean?”   


“Maybe it means it’s time to go fishing!” said Chat Noir and, with one fell swoop, he smashed his baton - fully-extended - into Hot Head’s side. 

Hot Head tumbled off his motorbike and hung for a moment in the air like a confused, flaming bird before toppling into the Seine with a loud splash and hiss. Ladybug looked over the edge and saw what appeared to be a man made of coal splashing frantically beneath them, wearing a helmet that was still sizzling and glowing. 

She looked at the fishing rod in her hand then passed it to Viperion. “You know I suck at fishing."

Silently he took the rod and, within moments, reeled in the sizzling helmet. After being dropped and crushed underfoot, the helmet released the fluttering black butterfly. Ladybug quickly snatched it up in her yo-yo, purified it, and sent it on its merry way. 

“That was easy,” Chat Noir said. “Wish we got more like that. Just drop him in the water and-” he clicked his fingers- “done!” 

“Yeah,” said Ladybug meekly. “Easy…” She grabbed the fishing rod back from Viperion and called for the Miraculous Cure. Pink light washed over Paris, clearing up Hot Head’s messes and even depositing the man himself back onto dry land. Though the man was now a scrawny teenage boy wearing a too-big leather jacket. 

The boy looked around, his eyes widening in horror when they alighted on the superhero trio, and scrambled to his feet. “Don’t tell me he got in my head,” he grumbled, clutching the side of his skull. “I can’t believe it…Stupid brother, stupid Hawkmoth…”   


“It happens to all of us,” Viperion said. “Do you need-”   


“I can get home on my own, I’m not a kid,” he grunted. “Thanks and whatever,” were his last words before he tucked his helmet under one arm and took off, running from the bridge then disappearing into the city. 

“Pfftch, that’s teenagers for you,” said Chat Noir. “Now that that’s over, you want to go to a party, Ladybug? I’m at one at the moment and-”

“Thanks but I think I’ll pass,” Ladybug said. “It’s been a long night…”   


“Then I’ll escort you home!”   


“It’s okay, really. You go back to your party,” she said. 

Chat Noir frowned, his gaze switching suspiciously between her and Viperion. Then, with a grunt that might have been irritation or acceptance, he vaulted away on his baton. 

Not long later, as she and Viperion stood awkwardly on the bridge looking into the water, Ladybug’s transformation dropped. Tikki gave Marinette a worried look before whizzing inside her black bag to munch on another cookie.

“So…” Marinette said.

“So,” Viperion said. “Maybe we should talk about this.”   


“Maybe. But can it wait until after the party? I -  _ we’ve _ \- already been missing for a long time and-”

“So tell them we were making out in the closet.”

“ _ Luka!” _ Marinette cried, appalled. “I mean Viperion! I mean- ugh!” She draped her arms and head over the edge of the bridge while Viperion laughed next to her. 

“We can talk about it later if you want,” he said. “It’s...it’s a lot to process. I can’t believe it’s you.”

“I can’t believe it’s you!” Marinette retorted. “This is going to make future akuma attacks...complicated.”

“How so? We work well together as Marinette and Luka, and as Ladybug and Viperion.”

“But now I know you’re you, and you know I’m me… we can’t let our personal lives bleed into our superhero lives. If Chat Noir catches on...and he knows who you are, doesn’t he? He’s the one who chose you in the first place. And if he knows you, maybe he knows you’re dating me, and if he realises there’s something between us then either he’ll think you’re cheating on me with me, or he’ll realise that I’m actually...me!”

Viperion stared at her, his lips pressed together in a quivering grin that was clearly suppressing more laughter. 

“So we have to keep this professional!” she continued, jabbing his chest with her finger and  _ damn did his chest look good in that costume. _

“Okay,” he said, putting on a serious expression and raising one hand as if swearing an oath. “I promise. Professional behaviour. He won’t know a thing.”

“Good.”

“So, party?” Smiling, he offered her his arm. “I still want to talk about this properly, but you’re right, we’ve been gone long enough as it is.”

Marinette nodded and took his arm, only for him to pull her close and lift her up, crushing her body against his chest. “Eep!”   


“It’ll be quicker if I carry you,” he said. “And I know you’d love to travel by moonlight in the arms of your celebrity crush.”

“My...you!” Face colouring, Marinette thwacked her hand against his shoulder. “You teased me about having a crush on you!”

He laughed, loud and carefree as he leapt from the bridge, scaled a wall, and went running across the rooftops, and Marinette wondered how she hadn’t not known who he was all along.


	29. Day Twenty-Nine: Reincarnation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reincarnation, in which Marinette has a bubble bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look out ‘cause this one’s a long’un. Also, a bit of salt chucked at the cat here… (I love Adrien, I really do, but as Chat Noir he’s kind of a butthead when it comes to boundaries and respect, which leads me to worry about how he’d be with consent which just leads me to, well, worry. And we all know how bad that jealous streak of his can be… Apologies in advance if it’s not your thing!)

**Day Twenty-Nine: Reincarnation**

_ “Miraculous Ladybug!” _

And with those words, a wave of magic swept through Paris, clearing the snow and turning the hundreds of snowmen back into people. A young boy sat in between the three heroes, pouting. 

“It’s not fair! They said it would snow and it didn’t!” he whined, crossing his arms and stomping. 

“Sorry, kid. Can’t always get what you want,” Chat Noir said with a shrug. Ladybug stifled a huff at the irony of Chat giving advice he himself was incapable of taking. “Besides, it’s too early for snow. It’s only November.”

“We’ll take you back home,” Ladybug offered, hoping to assuage the boy’s tantrum. This failed miserably, however, as he proceeded to thump the ground again and scream.

“I can’t! Mama will just send me back to school and I can’t go to school today!”

“Come on, kiddo,” said Chat. “School’s not  _ that _ bad.”

“I haven’t done my homework,” he retorted. “It was meant to  _ snow!” _

Ladybug anxiously touched her earrings; she didn’t have long until she transformed back, but she also didn’t want to leave the boy to rage himself into being akumatised again. “Viperion…”

Viperion gave her a rather stern look but nodded and scooped up the screaming boy. “I’ll talk to your mama,” he said. “Where do you live?”

As Viperion and the boy headed down the road and out of sight, Ladybug turned to leave as well, feeling guilty that  _ again _ their intention to actually  _ talk _ about the recent reveal had been sidelined.

It wasn’t like she was avoiding it. She just had a lot on her plate right now and so she and Luka hadn’t been able to properly get together. And whenever they did get together they either had no privacy, or it was during an akuma attack. And they couldn’t leave the scene together to talk then because she usually had something urgent to get back to. Not to mention Chat Noir had been suspicious of them ever since the events of Hallowe’en, and she didn’t want to add to that suspicion by leaving with Viperion after attacks.

Somehow, two weeks had passed, and they hadn’t talked about it. Not really. They’d talked around it in hushed tones at her parents’ dinner table, and in facial expressions across the battle field when one of them did something particularly dangerous. But not openly.

Ladybug had taken only a few steps down an alleyway, where she had intended to transform and run back to  Lycée , but someone called for her to stop. 

Chat Noir. He frowned at her from the mouth of the alley. What was he doing? Her transformation was close to running out, and he couldn’t have much time left either.

“Is something wrong?” she asked. 

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he replied. “Did Viperion do something to you?”

“What?” Ladybug blinked. “Why would you ask that?”

“That look he gave you just now. It wasn’t...friendly. You two have a falling out or something?” His eyes narrowed, gleaming green. “As  _ civilians? _ ”

“As…” Ladybug held back a gasp. Did he know? “What are you talking about?”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t  _ know _ who Viperion is,” she said, hoping she sounded believable. “Chat, you’re being unreasonable.”

“I’m not being unreasonable! You are! For letting this... _ lovers’ spat _ with Viperion affect our work!”

“Ridiculous!” she exclaimed. Her stomach twinged as for a moment she sounded just like Chloe. “All of this over  _ one facial expression that could have meant anything!” _

“It meant something to you,” he spat then turned away angrily, arms folded. “I saw your face afterwards. You looked guilty. Something must have happened, with the mask or without.”

“ _ I don’t know who he is!” _ Ladybug repeated. Her earrings buzzed—she had to go. “You chose him, not me! Goodbye, Chat.”

She saw his sullen expression change as he realised something, but she didn’t stick around to find out what. With the last seconds of her timer rapidly running out, Ladybug flung her yo-yo down the alley, swung through the shadows, and landed on the street a moment after reverting back to Marinette. 

Nonchalantly making her way towards  Lycée _ ,  _ Marinette pondered the situation. Things were steadily getting more and more awkward with Chat Noir with his possessive side shining through stronger than ever. And over what? As far as she was aware, she and Viperion hadn’t been acting  _ that _ differently over the last couple of weeks. But then again, the two boys hadn’t gotten along exactly brilliantly before that; like a tiger defending its territory, Chat Noir had a tendency to force Viperion onto the sideline both in battle and during interviews. 

Hopefully, after talking to Luka, they could come up with a strategy to throw Chat off the scent and become a closer trio. After all, Paris would always be more important than petty spats.

* * *

**Luka: Dunno what that kid was screaming about**

**L: His ma was never gonna send him to school  
** **L: Especially not after he started whining that I said he had to  
** **L: Reminded me of the aunt from Harry Potter  
** **L: You can tell how he turned into such a brat**

Frowning slightly as he slipped his phone back into his pocket, Luka started jogging to the pizzeria he worked part time at when he wasn’t in lesson or rehearsal. It wasn’t much money, but it was enough to keep him stocked with guitar strings and plectrums, and it came with a fair amount of free pizza he liked taking away to share with Marinette after his evening shifts.

Not that he’d been able to share free pizza with Marinette in a while, what with her never being available anymore. It made him anxious—very anxious—as the last time they’d been too busy to make time for each other he had fallen into a very dark head-space. Therapy had helped, and the reveal of his true parenthood had too, but worries still lingered. When he was alone, lying in the dark trying to sleep, sometimes he would shut his eyes and hear the soundtrack of his childhood. The arguments; the screams; the breaking glass; Juleka’s whimpers as she crawled under the sheets beside him. Sometimes he would hum the same tunes he did all those years ago to comfort her, but now she wasn’t there to hear and it was his own whimpering heart he was trying to comfort. 

Luka shook his head of these thoughts as he arrived at the pizzeria. He was technically a delivery boy—at least, that’s what was on his contract—but more and more he was being put at the counter instead. Apparently, there were a fair few customers who only came in when he was working at the till. 

“I feel like you’re whoring me out,” he said once to the floor manager, Candice, a young woman in her twenties. “I do have a girlfriend.”

“I don’t care,” she’d replied, handing him his apron and hat. “If making you work shirtless got more customers in the door and more money in the till, I’d do it. More sales means bigger bonuses.”

“For you.”

“I’ll make you work without trousers too if you keep up that attitude. I’m sure those girls would love it if you only wore an apron.”

Candice had only been joking, of course. But it didn’t make him feel great knowing that he was essentially being used as a pretty face to lure in custom, especially as most of the monthly bonuses given for higher sales went to the managers instead of the shift workers, but he liked the pizzeria and he didn’t want to give up his job for such a petty reason. So, after dumping his bag in the back and donning his uniform, he took up his post behind the counter. 

The first half of his shift was the quiet time: just after lunch when most people had already eaten. However, the second half became drastically busier as schools finished for the day and students poured onto the Paris streets in search of something to eat whilst winding down. 

It was during this busy time when an unexpected person entered the shop. Luka had just waved off a gaggle of giggly girls, who had only ordered a single large pizza and a few sides between all of them, when who of all people should walk in?

Adrien Agreste.

Alone.

No body guard or overbearing father insight. He didn’t know much about the guy—he’d only met him a handful of times when hanging out with Marinette and her friends. From what he could tell, he was nice enough but a bit of a pushover. Very much  _ vanilla.  _ But that wasn’t surprising, being the face of the Agreste fashion label he had a certain image to uphold, and his timetabled lifestyle didn’t give him the time or freedom to grow much of a backbone. 

Thus, with Adrien being nice but spaghetti-spined, it was more surprising to see him not just alone but  _ angry.  _ And, as he reached the counter and fixed Luka with a hard stare, he appeared to be angry with  _ him.  _

“Hey, man,” Luka greeted. “I didn’t think you were allowed pizza on your diet. Or are you having a cheat day?”

Any hopes of Adrien being grumpy from lack of pizza were soon dashed. 

“Do you love Marinette?” he asked, with the tone of someone who had already decided what the answer was. 

“Uh, yes?” he replied.

“So you’d never cheat on her?”

Luka scrunched his brow and glanced around. Was this some sort of joke or trick? Was Marinette going to jump out from behind a chair and proclaim this a test. But that wasn’t her style. He shook his head. “Of course I wouldn’t.”

Adrien frowned deeply but seemed to accept this answer. He coughed slightly to clear his throat and looked at something in his jacket pocket. His facial expression, whilst still taut with annoyance, now resembled something akin to indifference. Then he leaned casually on the counter and glanced at the menu. “Can I grab a cheesy garlic bread… with extra cheese.”

“Sure. 6€.”

Adrien fished a 10€ note from his pocket and handed it over. “Keep the change. So, did you see the akuma fight today?”

Dropping Adrien’s would-be change into the tip jar, Luka pondered the question. Why was he asking about the akuma? From what he’d seen, Adrien had never expressed a huge amount of interest in akumas before - that was more Alya’s thing. But he had once heard the two have an animated conversation about Ladybug, so maybe he was interested in superheroes?

“Uh, a bit,” Luka replied as he sent off the order to the chefs using an instant messaging system connected to the kitchen. “I nearly got turned into a snowman and hid for most of it. Didn’t want to miss the start of my shift.”   


“I thought Chat Noir and Ladybug worked together really well today,” Adrien continued. “It makes sense though; they  _ are _ meant to be together. They’re soulmates. Old magic. Can’t get in the way of it.” His green eyes turned steely. “It’s destiny.”   


The irritation that would have usually bubbled up inside Luka’s gut was overshadowed by the bizarre feeling that he wasn’t really looking at Adrien Agreste. There was too much aggression; it wasn’t like him at all. He started mentally cobbling together a reply, something about Chat Noir’s constant pestering despite Ladybug’s refusals not being healthy behaviour for supposed ‘soulmates’, if soulmates were really a thing. However, he didn’t get a chance to vocalise this as, just then, someone gasped behind him. 

One of the other part time workers, around Luka’s age, rushed in and started gently nudging him out of the way. “It’s all right, Luka. I’ll take over,” she whispered. “You go on your break.” Then, louder, “Are you Adrien Agreste? I loved the perfume advert you were in a while back. Are you going to do more?”

Immediately, the aggression disappeared, and Adrien once more assumed his meek, polite persona. He flushed pink and rubbed the back of his head, eyes soft and his smile slightly forced. “Oh, yeah, that’s me. I just finished shooting another advert the other day. I think it’s broadcasting next week?”

His colleague, Cheri, nudged him again. Luka decided that this was an excellent time to go take a break and sloped away into the staff room. Just before the door shut behind him, he glanced back and caught Adrien’s steely gaze upon him. A steely gaze so unlike Adrien and yet oddly familiar.

His mind twinged.

Once inside the staff room, Luka sat down and checked his phone. Two texts: one from Juleka, asking if he could score a free dessert from work, and a reply from Marinette. 

**Marinette: need to talk  
** **M: sorry in class rn  
** **M: something happened w/ chat  
** **M: when does your shift end**

He had barely typed out his reply when Cheri hurtled into the room, sobbing. Before he could ask her what was wrong—though he could guess it was probably something like being rejected by Adrien—a black butterfly fluttered in through the window and settled in her apron.

“Fight it, Cheri. Don’t let him win,” he said, but it was too late. Black and purple clouds oozed over her body, wrapping around like a cocoon. Luka sent another text to Marinette and made a run for the bathroom. 

**L: I finish at 6**

**L: Another akuma just appeared here**

“Sass,” he said, throwing open the bathroom window. “You ready for another round?”

“Do I have a choiccce?” 

* * *

Marinette had been catching up with Alya over a warm drink when she received Luka’s texts. Alya clearly noticed the look of horror on her face. 

“What’s up?”

“Akuma!” she said. “At Luka’s work.”

"Another one? Hawkmoth sure is getting desperate…” Shaking her head, Alya stood up. “Did you say at Luka’s work?”

Marinette nodded. “Yeah… Wait, Alya, no-”

“I barely got any footage of the snowman one!”

“Because you got turned  _ into _ a snowman!”

“I’ll be more careful this time.” Alya downed the rest of her drink and pulled out her phone, grinning. “Got to have something to put on the Ladyblog tonight! I promise I’ll try not to get turned into a pizza or whatever.”

As much as Marinette hated it when Alya ran head first into dangerous situations like this, it did allow her to transform without being seen. She slipped out of the cafe to find an empty room, transformed into Ladybug, and burst out onto the streets. 

She soon spotted Alya pedalling furiously down the road, her phone clutched precariously between her hand and the handlebars. Nothing seemed amiss until she reached the small plaza where Luka’s pizzeria was and found the place covered with dough and melted cheese.

“Please don’t tell me people are being turned into pizzas,” Ladybug muttered, eyeing a stack of vegetable pizza slices on the remains of a crushed chair.

“She just blasts them from her gun,” Chat Noir said, appearing from the pizzeria. “The vegetable ones are like cannon balls, really heavy. The cheese ones are sticky. And the spicy pepperoni…”

Suddenly, an explosion went off from just behind the pizzeria, sending a spray of melted cheese and charred dough raining down. 

“They explode.”

“Great,” Ladybug muttered. “Where’s the akuma?”

“The snake’s with her round there.” He pointed towards where the explosion had come from, suddenly sour-faced. “I was gonna go too but then I heard your beautiful voice out here and-”

“Okay, Chat,” she interrupted, holding up a hand to stop him. “We should go give Viperion a hand, don’t you think?”

Chat seemed displeased with the idea—why? It was literally their job!—but nonetheless sloped after her when she ran in the direction he had gestured. Into the pizzeria, straight through the kitchen where one of Luka’s coworkers was hiding behind a large sack of flour, and out to the courtyard where they kept their large bins. Pizza littered the area, stuck to the fence and ground into the cobblestone pavement. One part of the fence was singed and cracked, and beyond it Ladybug could see the trail of dough and tomato sauce continuing onto the street. 

The trail led them down the road and around a corner where the akuma had halted. It was clearly a she, dressed in a green shirt, long red-orange skirt and a starched white apron fastened tightly around her waist. On her back she wore a large, square backpack emitting an orange glow through a glass window. Attached was a wide, flat nozzle, looping over her shoulder, which she held like a weapon. Viperion stood before her, his lyre in hand ready to be thrown, and behind him was Gorilla, Adrien’s bodyguard. 

“Where is he!” the akuma—Pizzarella—screamed, brandishing her weapon at Gorilla. “I’m just as good as a model or a fashion designer. Pizza doesn’t make me worthless!”

Gorilla tried to back away into the limo parked haphazardly on the roadside. But Pizzarella was too fast for him, shooting a cheese pizza at the door, glueing it shut. Inside, in the passenger seat, the stern, dark-haired woman sometimes seen chaperoning Adrien banged a desperate fist against the window. 

“Come on, leave the kid alone,” Viperion implored, stepping sideways to come between her and Gorilla again. “He hasn’t done anything.”

“I have to prove myself!” Pizzarella yelled, re-aiming her gun at him. “Just because I make pizza doesn’t mea-”

“I know,” Viperion said. “You shouldn’t wrap up so much of your self worth in your job. And you also shouldn’t value yourself by your relationships either, romantic or otherwise. So lay off him.”

Pizzarella paused, her brow furrowed as she no doubt listened to instructions from Hawkmoth. She frowned. “You’re one to talk,” she spat. “You’re trying to look better by getting close to Ladybug and getting in the way of her relationship with Chat Noir. You’re trying to use her and undermine destiny!”

“What?” said Viperion.

“What?” Ladybug echoed. “I’m putting an end to this no-”

“Wait,” Chat Noir interrupted. “Let her speak. She’s the only one talking sense around here.”

“Chat!”

“We’ve all seen the way you stare at her and follow her around,” Pizzarella continued. “Always putting yourself between her and Chat Noir. You tell me I shouldn’t define myself by my adoration for Adrien, but you’re defined by your relationship to Ladybug. By your constant stalking and pestering and stopping the course of true love!”

“Yes!” Chat Noir cried excitedly. “Exactly!”

Ladybug groaned. Could this be any worse?

Apparently yes, as she had just spotted Alya off to one side, filming the exchange. She could see the glee in her eyes that meant this footage was going straight on the Ladyblog. Maybe it was being streamed live. Either way, she couldn’t have Pizzarella spouting such nonsense - she had to finish this now. 

Ladybug quickly and quietly called for her lucky charm a—long tube—and looked around for inspiration. Her eyes latched onto a fire hydrant not far down the road. Perfect.

“Chat, come with me,” she said, grabbing his arm. She dragged him to the fire hydrant and pointed at it. “When I give the signal, use your cataclysm to open this for me and send the water through the tube.” 

“Whatever you say, milady,” he said, grabbing one end of the tube. “Maybe afterwards we can grab a pizza for two?”

“Thanks but I have plans.” Pretending not to notice his sullen pout, Ladybug picked up the other end of the nozzle and ran back towards Pizzarella. Now all she had to do was get close without getting blasted by sticky cheese.

Viperion was still trying to reason with her, but apparently Pizzarella was intent on going off on an anti-Viperion rant as loudly as she could, and both Alya and Chat Noir were loving it. But Ladybug was not. 

“That’s enough!” she called then faltered because what on earth could she say without giving away anything potentially vital? “I don’t want to hear another word.”

Pizzarella glared at her. “You should be nicer to Chat Noir,” she said. “Instead of leaving him on the sidelines like you always do.” She looked past her at where Chat Noir was holding fort by the fire hydrant. “Instead you’re standing up for this-”

Anger burst across her body like a red-raw sunburn. Before Pizzarella could finish her sentence, Ladybug flung out her yo-yo and wrapped it around the pizza-gun. Fortunately, the akuma was both light and unprepared, and so it didn’t take more than a hard yank to pull her closer. Then, when she was within range, Ladybug jammed her end of the nozzle into the pizza-gun. 

“Chat, now!” she called. But nothing happened. She noticed Viperion’s expression turn from thoughtful indifference to alarm, then looked around to see Chat Noir  _ running towards them.  _ “What are you-”

With his baton extended, Chat Noir smacked Pizzarella like a tennis ball and sent her careening into Viperion, closely followed by Ladybug who was still attached via her yo-yo. 

The three of them landed in an awkward heap, with the akuma sandwiched between Ladybug and Viperion. Pizzarella tried to get up, but Viperion grabbed a hold of her. “It’s in her apron!” he wheezed, trapped beneath the weight of both girls. 

Ladybug grabbed a hold of the white apron and tugged it, but the material was reinforced and impossible to tear. The nozzle had fallen out of the pizza-gun, which Pizzarella now primed and pointed in Viperion’s face, ready to launch. 

Crying out in fear, Ladybug pulled the apron up and around the gun, blocking the exit, just in time for something hot and disc-shaped to expel from the weapon, hit the apron, and promptly explode. 

The apron absorbed most of the blast, but Ladybug was still thrown up a few feet. Dazed, she nearly missed the black butterfly as it was forced out of the tattered apron, but just about managed to catch it in her yo-yo. Then, releasing it newly-purified, she hurried back to where Pizzarella and Viperion lay. They had both been closer to the blast, and without the space to be thrown back, were instead left unconscious on the street. Pizzarella had turned back into a teenage girl with mousy hair and the same uniform Luka wore at work. 

Ladybug disentangled the nozzle from the mess and awkwardly threw it into the air to perform the Miraculous Cure. Both the girl and Viperion came to immediately, groaning and clutching their heads but alive and well. Viperion stood, swayed, and fell again, landing heavily against Ladybug, chest slumping over her shoulder. She pushed him off just enough to see his face. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Just a bit, you know…” 

The girl was also getting to her feet, looking around bemusedly. “What happened? Why am I… Oh no.” Crushed, she buried her face in her hands and let out a weak sob. “I can’t believe it...I’m so sorry, Ladybug. I didn’t mean to…”

Viperion detached himself from Ladybug to place a comforting hand on the girl’s shoulder whilst Ladybug waved away the onlookers, namely Gorilla and Alya. “Okay, show’s over. Give us some space, please.”

Gorilla, no doubt on the hunt for Adrien, hopped back in his limo and drove off whilst Alya retrieved her bike from where she’d left it leaning against a wall. It occurred to Ladybug that she should have stopped her and told her to delete any footage she had taken of the akuma’s anti-Viperion rant, but too late. Alya was soon a speck down the road. 

What a day. Ladybug wanted nothing more than to just go home, sink into a warm bubble bath and take a nap. But the day wasn’t over yet. 

“I think it would be best if you took her back,” Chat Noir said stiffly to Viperion, nodding at the girl. “After all the damage you caused.”

If Viperion felt scandalised by that statement, he didn’t show it. But he did give Chat Noir a stern look and, as if predicting what conversation was about to follow, said, “She’s not an object, you know. Just because you say you love her doesn’t mean you own her.”

“I know that,” Chat Noir snapped, but waited until Viperion and the girl had left before speaking again. “What’s going on with you two?” he demanded.

“We’re teammates, Chat,” she replied, keeping her tone neutral because she  _ really _ didn’t want to have an argument. This argument. Again. “I’d appreciate it if you acted like one.”

“ _ I’m _ your teammate,” he snarled. “No, I’m your  _ partner.  _ We don’t  _ need _ him. It’s Ladybug and Chat Noir, partners in fighting crime. You and me, yin and yang. Together. It’s destiny, and he doesn’t fit into it.”

“It’s not  _ destiny _ , Chat,” she said. “You’re trying to turn this into something it’s not. We  _ were _ partners, yes, but we had to have another permanent member. Hawkmoth may scrape the barrel sometimes but a lot of his akumas are really powerful. He’s getting stronger and if it was just the two of us we would have been defeated by now, and Hawkmoth would have won.”

“You don’t know that,” he grunted. “Maybe if you didn’t keep  _ sidelining _ me. Lately it’s just been you and the snake doing all the cool heroics and what am I doing? Sitting by the fire hydrant.”

“You didn’t even do that!” she retorted, previous anger bubbling again, just beneath her skin, threatening to break through like an old scar. “If you had just  _ stayed _ there like I asked then no one would have gotten hurt!”

“They’re fine!”

“They got knocked out! If Viperion hadn’t figured out it was in her apron then I wouldn’t have been able to stop that pizza bomb. He could have  _ died.” _

Chat Noir huffed and looked away, arms folded. “Your Miraculous Cure would have brought him back just fine.”

Another surge of anger, stronger now, coloured with desperation and a barrage of horrible  _ what ifs?  _ “What if that didn’t work?” she said. “What if it didn’t bring him back. What if taking him out ended with her winning? With Hawkmoth winning? Then what? He’d use his wish for world domination or whatever it is he’s after, and Viperion-” her voice cracked- “our  _ teammate _ would be gone forever!”

“But he’s not just a teammate to you, is he?” Chat glared openly now, and something stronger than dislike burned in his eyes. “You’ve been taken in by his...hypnosis. By his powers.”

“What are you talking about, Chat?”

“His powers! His Second Chance! He’s been using it to...to make you fall for him! But you can’t let him!”

“Stop it.”

“No!” Chat yelled. “He’s got a girlfriend, you know. He’s just stringing you on. He doesn’t like you. But I do. I love you. You’re the ladybug and I’m the cat. We’re meant to be together, you know we are. The ladybug and the cat, reincarnated time and time again, always finding each other. Always being together...why don’t you realise that? Why does  _ everyone  _ in Paris get it apart from you? Why are you being so difficult?”

Ladybug stared at him, her flesh blazing white-hot with rage, but she swallowed it down and breathed in. In, until her lungs were full and the cool, November air had extinguished the fire under her skin. She breathed out, and the air dragged all of her energy out with it. 

“Go home, Chat,” she murmured. “I’m tired.”

“But-”

“Go home,” she said again, sharper. Without waiting to hear his response, she sped away. 

* * *

Ladybug’s transformation gave out before she reached her house. She felt just as drained as Marinette, and by the time she had trudged back to the bakery, she felt ready for a coffin. 

“Dear, are you feeling all right?” Sabine asked as Marinette sloped across the shop floor towards the apartment. “You’re home later than I expected.”

“Akuma attack blocked the road for a while,” she replied. “And it’s been a long day. I’m going to go drown myself in the bath.”

“That’s a bit over-dramatic…” Sabine commented. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“No…”

“Is it about Luka?”

Marinette shook her head. Thankfully, the shop was empty, so she was able to flop down into one of the chairs and rest her head in her arms for a few moments. “We’re fine. Just...everything else. One of those days, you know?”

“Oh, well...is there anything you need?” Sabine sounded almost guilty, and when Marinette looked up she saw her mother chewing her bottom lip unsurely. 

“Just rest, I think.”

“If you’re sure. You see, your father and I-”

“Good evening my petite sugar mouse!” exclaimed Tom, bursting out from the kitchen with icing sugar colouring his moustache white. “I, oh, uh…”

“I’m fine, papa,” Marinette said. “Just tired.”

“Is there anything you need?” he asked in the same guilty tone as her mother. 

“We’re going out to dinner tonight,” Sabine explained. “Your father is hoping to get a rather good business deal out of it. I’m sorry it’s such short notice but we won’t be around-”

“Unless you need us, sweetie,” Tom cut in hastily. “If a few rounds of Mecha Strike will cheer you up?”

Marinette managed a smile. Of course her dad would potentially give up a business deal just to make sure she was okay. “It’s fine, papa. I can sort out dinner for myself.”

“Why don’t you invite Luka round for a bit?” Sabine suggested. “It’s been a while since you two have been on a date, with all the work you’ve been doing lately…”

“Just as long as you stay in the living room while we’re out,” Tom added sternly. 

“We will, papa. I’ll text him, but first I’m going to sit in the bath.” After kissing both her parents on the cheek, Marinette made her way into the apartment. 

Twenty minutes later, with a text sent to Luka -  **I need to have a looooong bath to feel clean after all that dough. Can you come over when youre done at work? Its been a terrible day. Cant wait for it to just end -** Marinette was sitting in a hot bath filled to the brim with snow-white bubbles that smelt of Lavender. According to Rose, lavender was good for de-stressing—and even if it didn’t work, it smelt divine. Her phone, wrapped in plastic to keep it dry, sat on a shelf embedded into the corner of the room for Tikki to play games on. 

With the heady, floral scent of lavender in her nostrils and the warm water easing the tension in her muscles, Marinette found the day’s problems drifting from her mind like the sea from the beach at low tide, ebbing slowly, gently, until there was a nice, flat expanse of white sand…

_ PING. _

The sound of the notification on her phone rudely snatched Marinette back into the real world. Grumpy, because even though her fingers were wrinkling like prunes, she felt like she’d only been soaking for a few minutes, she turned her head in Tikki’s direction but kept her eyes shut.

“Is it Luka?”

“No. It’s...oh.” 

“Tikki?” Opening her eyes, Marinette watched Tikki rapidly read something on the phone screen, her round face pull down in concern. “Tikki, what is it?”

“Just the Ladyblog…”

Oh dear. “Is it about Pizzarella’s little rant today?”

Tikki pulled her troubled face away to grimace at Marinette. “Sort of…”

Alya must have written the article incredibly quickly for an account of Pizzarella to already be up on the blog. “Can I see?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t read it…”

“Tikki, I can handle. Besides, if Alya’s been overstepping any lines, I need to know.”

Reluctantly, Tikki picked up the phone and carried it over, then sat down on the edge of the bath. Marinette immediately knew why Tikki had been so upset; just the headline was enough to make her want to sink beneath the bubbles and never emerge.

_ VIPERION: SNAKE IN THE GRASS? _

Most of the article was dominated by the video Alya had taken of Pizzarella accusing Viperion of getting in the way of Ladybug and Chat Noir’s romance. Alya’s written report didn’t do much to quell this. 

_ As researched previously in the article A LADYBUG THROUGH THE AGES, Ladybug is a hero who has been reincarnated several times throughout history. And with every reincarnation, she is accompanied by the black cat. Their partnership is one that has been reborn time and time again, giving them a unique soul-connection that cannot be undone.  _

_ The addition of Viperion _ — _ the snake-themed hero with the power to rewind time _ — _ is a controversial one. Whilst he is important to their ultimate goal of bringing down Hawkmoth and restoring peace to Paris, is he _ — _ as today’s second akuma said _ — _ also getting in the way of true love?  _

The article was interrupted by a photograph taken at the end of the fight, showing Viperion slumped over Ladybug’s shoulder and Ladybug pushing him away. Although Marinette knew in actuality Viperion had only been dazed after being knocked out by the pizza bomb, and landed on her whilst trying to get up, but the caption indicated something entirely different:  _ Viperion trying to get close to Ladybug? _

The article continued.

_ Viperion has been spotted several times staring at Ladybug, but whether this is in awe of her creative plans and leadership skills, or in secret yearning for something he can’t hope of having, remains to be solved. However, the scaly hero has also been known to physically put himself in between Ladybug and Chat Noir, which your reporter has seen happen too many times to pass off as innocent accidents.  _

_ Perhaps, in time, Viperion will learn to stay professional when on the job, and stay out of Ladybug and Chat Noir’s destined romance. _

_ By Alya Cesaire, edited by Adrien Agreste. _

Adrien’s name at the bottom was slightly surprising, but he had been the akuma’s target so perhaps Alya had asked him for some perspective on the piece. However, she had clearly not extended the courtesy to either Ladybug or Viperion. Neither to Chat Noir, but Marinette didn’t think he would jump to correct any of Alya’s assumptions. 

Marinette scrolled through a few comments, which ranged from agreement that Viperion ought not stick his nose where it’s not wanted, to pointing out that Chat Noir was the unprofessional one. One person commented that Ladybug had never shown any romantic interest in Chat Noir, but it was mostly ignored.

She closed the article and put her phone down on the bath’s edge. “What do I do?”

“I think you need to talk to Alya about this. She shouldn’t be undermining your teammates like this,” Tikki said. “I wonder why she’s being so harsh on Viperion.”

“Because he’s a threat to her precious Ladynoir or Catbug or whatever it’s called,” Marinette replied. “You know how obsessed she gets over relationships... She jumped onto Lila’s nonsense that I was using Luka to get Adrien jealous. And even before that, she put more effort into trying to get me and Adrien together than I did! And if there’s one thing she’s obsessed with more than anything else, it’s Ladybug and Chat Noir, so of course she got frustrated when Viperion became a permanent member.” 

“She might be jealous too,” Tikki added. “She’s Rena Rouge. She was the first extra teammate you brought in—maybe she thought she should be the first to be made permanent.”

Marinette pursed her lips. Alya  _ had _ been particularly enthusiastic when offered the chance to become Rena Rouge for the first time. So much so that she nearly hadn’t given the Miraculous back afterwards. “I think you’re right.”

“You have to talk to her,” Tikki repeated. “We can’t have Paris turn their back on Viperion because of this, or Hawkmoth might use it to his advantage!”

“I will. But…” Sighing, Marinette let herself sink a little deeper into the bath until the bubbles were tickling her chin. “It’s too late. She’s done damage here that can’t be reversed. Even if she took this down and put up an apology, there are some people who’ll read this and believe it. All this soulmate and reincarnation stuff…” Marinette sighed again, sinking further so her mouth was covered. It sounded just like what Chat had said to her, about them being destined for each other, fated. Soulmates. Yin and yang. Reincarnated again and again to be together.

It made her feel sick. Alarmed. Scared. That the universe, or some greater power, had such a strong pull over her that she would be forced to be with Chat. Chat, who didn’t understand the word no, who didn’t respect her boundaries, who lashed out in jealous rage over everything. 

“Is it true?” she asked quietly, resurfacing. “What she—they—said? About the ladybug and the black cat being soulmates. Destined?”

Tikki looked at her sadly. “It’s...complicated. Yes and no, but not in the way you think. The black cat and the ladybug  _ are _ like yin and yang, as Chat Noir said. They’re natural opposites, destruction and creation, that rely on the other to keep balance. They have always been partners, for as long as Plagg and I have been around. I suppose you could call it soulmates in a way. When you become Ladybug, your soul and mine are  _ bound.  _ It’s the same with Plagg and his chosen user. And as Plagg and I are partners, have been forever and will always be, so the chosen ladybug and black cat users are also partners on a soul level. But it’s not romantic. And just because the ladybug and black cat are destined to be partners—because that is the essence of their beings—it does not mean the separate souls of the chosen users are destined to be together. It’s not the reincarnation of some old romance, it is the reincarnation of a partnership that is carried completely through my soul and Plagg’s—not yours. Your soul is your own, your life is your own, and you choose what you wish to do with it. If you wanted, you could take your earrings out and give them to someone else, and then the soulmate connection between the ladybug and the black cat would pass on to that next person when I bind with them.”

Marinette idly gathered together a large mound of bubbles and began drawing shapes in it, like footsteps in the snow, as she mulled over Tikki’s words. It did make sense, she supposed. Any partnership or reincarnation within the realm of Miraculous users  _ had  _ to be passed on through the kwamis, not their users. Both Fu and Nino had used the turtle, and that did not make them the same. Someone else had become Ladybug when she’d sprained her ankle, and that person hadn’t become inexplicably bound to Chat Noir. And destiny  _ couldn’t _ have put her and Chat Noir together; Fu had. It was his choice, not the universe’s. Suddenly, it all made sense. 

“I get it now,” she said, smiling softly. “Thanks, Tikki.”

“That’s okay, Marinette.”   
  
“But...do you think you could tell Chat Noir that for me? He doesn’t seem to get it.”

Tikki giggled. “I’m afraid not...but if he talks to his kwami about it then hopefully Plagg will say the same thing! Though knowing him he’ll probably just stuff his face with cheese and ignore it…Oh!” 

At that moment, Marinette’s phoned pinged again. “What is it?”

“Luka!”

“Is it already six?” she asked but nonetheless grabbed the phone.

**Luka: Are you doing okay? I’ve just finished my shift so I’ll be there in a few minutes.   
** **L: I’m bringing pizza and cheesecake so I hope you’re hungry  
** **L: I love you xx**

“How is it,” Marinette murmured, reading his last text again whilst smiling stupidly, “that he always knows just what I need…”

“He said he’ll be here in a few minutes,” Tikki said, hovering over her shoulder to read the messages. 

“Mmhmm.”

“So... I don’t think Luka will complain but…” Tikki’s eyes flickered down briefly then she raised her brow. 

With a garbled yell, Marinette launched herself out of the bath and into the towel Tikki was already holding ready. She ran to her room, dried off, and threw on some clean, comfy clothes. Her hair was bundled up on top of her head in a messy bun so it didn’t get wet in the bath, and somehow despite not touching it for the duration of her soak it had become a tangled mess ridden with pins. 

She had barely managed to make a dent in undoing it when her phone rang. It was Luka asking to be let in. 

“I knocked as your ma’s usually on the shop floor,” he said a minute later after she had run downstairs to open the door. “But I guess she’s busy or…”

“They must have gone out already,” Marinette replied. “They’ve got some business dinner or something.” She caught sight of herself reflected in the dark windows and flushed. “I didn’t realise you’d be here so quickly. I didn’t have time to look-” she tugged fruitlessly at her hair- “less like a disaster.”

Luka tugged her into a one-armed hug as he was carrying two cardboard boxes in the other hand, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You’re a very cute disaster,” he said. “Are you doing okay? Your last text worried me. I thought you were going to try and drown yourself.”

“I wouldn’t have asked you to come over if I wanted to drown myself,” she said, leading him upstairs into the living room. “I was tempted though…”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

They flopped down on the sofa after depositing Luka’s food boxes on the coffee table. Marinette curled up against his chest, head leaning on his shoulder as he fiddled with her hair. She realised after a few minutes that he was carefully extracting the hairpins holding it in place. Tikki settled down on top of the warm box of pizza, soon joined by Sass creeping out of Luka’s pocket.

“Do you want to eat?” Luka asked, placing another hairpin on the sofa arm. “I grabbed a margarita; couldn’t face anything with pepperoni after, yeah...there’s cheesecake too if you want. You’re lucky; I was meant to grab that for Juleka but your needs are more important.”

Marinette disentangled herself from him to grab the still-warm pizza box and arranged it carefully on her lap. She pulled out a slice, held it up so Luka could take a bite, then tucked into it herself whilst he continued with her hair. 

She ate slowly and silently, trying to work out exactly what she needed to say to him, what she needed to ask him, and how to broach the awkward topic of Chat Noir’s jealousy. By the time she had finished the slice and fished out a second, Luka had pulled all of the hairpins out and was combing her hair out of the bun. 

“So,” he said, grabbing a slice for himself. “That was a pretty intense fight today, huh.”

“Yeah.”

“I think I’ve gotten used to it,” he said. “You being Ladybug. Today was a bit of a shock; it’s the first time since I found out that I’ve seen you in immediate danger and you handled it so confidently. I thought I’d be worried, but I’m not. It’s dangerous but I know you can handle it, I know you’re strong enough. And I know that if it does go wrong, at least I’m by your side to help.” He laughed quietly. “I can’t believe I didn’t realise it sooner. You and Ladybug...you’re so similar. You care so much about people, you’re creative and smart. Beautiful.” 

Marinette could hear the smirk in his voice and rolled her eyes. “I felt the same when I found out you were Viperion,” she admitted. “I couldn’t understand how I didn’t see it before. It’s so obvious now!”

“There’sss a reassson for that,” Sass said, nearly making Marinette jump as she had nearly forgotten the kwamis were there. “The transssformatttion givesss you more than jussst a masssk. It createsss a sssort of mind block which ssstopsss people recognisssing you.”

“Well, I feel less stupid now,” Marinette said. “But, when you are Viperion, sometimes I nearly forget it’s still you as well unless I make myself think it. It’s weird.”

“Same,” Luka said. 

They ate quietly for a bit, giving Marinette the opportunity to regather her thoughts. There wasn’t much else to say about Luka’s being Viperion. He just  _ was _ , and he was good at it. She knew how he became Viperion because Chat had chosen him, and she suspected that Master Fu had delivered the Miraculous back to him to make him a permanent member of the team. What she really wanted to talk about was the fight today, and Alya’s article, and Chat Noir. But, Luka beat her to it. 

“Do you remember what that pizza akuma said?” he asked, tossing the now-empty box back onto the coffee table and settling back into the sofa. He looked down, fringe flopping over his eyes. “About you and Chat Noir and destiny?” 

Marinette’s stomach filled with ice. “Yeah, I remember,” she said, wondering if she should mention the article. “She was only saying that because of Hawkmoth. Has it been bothering you?”

“I don’t know that it was just because of Hawkmoth, and I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t been bugging me,” Luka admitted, looking shame-faced. “But, when everyone in Paris seems to think your girlfriend is just  _ meant _ to be with someone else, and you can’t really do much to stop them without revealing too much…”

“Everyone in Paris is wrong,” Marinette said firmly. 

“It’s still frustrating to know they think that,” he replied. “And I hate that I don’t know how to defend you from it. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way they latch onto Chat Noir’s love confessions and completely ignore the way you reject them. Now that the akuma’s been shouting about it, and Alya’s probably going to mention it in her next blog post, if I do try to defend you it’ll just add to that narrative. Or am I being a selfish coward? Maybe I should, maybe they’d listen to you then.”

“You’re not a selfish coward, Luka.” She took his hand between hers and squeezed it gently until he squeezed back. “I’d be hesitant too if I was in your position. I could have done something about it by now, could have done an interview and laid it all out but I was scared of how Chat Noir would react. He gets upset whenever I reject him and ignores me until I apologise. One day I’m worried he’ll get into a sulk and we’ll end up losing because of it. We almost lost today because he listened to the akuma instead of me. We might lose the next one; Chat cornered me after the fight today. After both fights and…” She sighed and held his hand tighter, bringing it up to face to lean against her cheek. Then, staring at the corner of the coffee table, she told him everything Chat had told her. 

When she had finished, Luka looked livid. His face wasn’t scrunched up or flushed red, now had he fisted his hands or kicked the furniture. But a hardness had overtaken his eyes and the skin around his mouth was pulled tight. “This has to stop,” he said. “This isn’t healthy. For either of you.”

“I know,” she mumbled.

He pulled her into a hug, cradling her head against his neck and tracing circles on her back. “Maybe you can catch Alya as Ladybug before she posts about the fight today. Get her to mention Chat nearly screwing it up by not respecting you. I nearly got my head blown off because of him. I know I didn’t but I’m still a little sore about it.”

The chill returned to Marinette’s insides, which squirmed like a bundle of worms. “Ah, about that blog post…”

“She’s already posted it, hasn't she.”

“Yeah.”

“How bad?”

With her face still safely pressed into his neck, Marinette didn’t answer. She could feel him shift around a little, probably fishing out his phone to read the article. A few moments of stillness followed, during which Marinette could hear her heart thundering against her ribs. 

Finally, he moved again and let out a long, aggravated sigh. “She really has it out for me, huh?”

“It’s not you,” Marinette said. “She’s worried you’re going to torpedo her favourite ship.”

“What’s this reincarnation stuff? You and Chat Noir are...soulmates?”

She could hear the worry in his voice and quickly pulled away. “No. Well, yes, but…” Marinette glanced desperately at Tikki, who smiled encouragingly and nodded. “Only soulmates because of our kwamis. Me and whoever Chat Noir is, we’re not romantically destined to be together. People only think we are because Chat keeps going on about it and everyone’s been taken in by his flirting and confessing.”

“Good,” said Luka. “If there was something bigger than us drawing you two together then there’s nothing I can do about it, and as much as that would hurt the worst part would be knowing you were bound to someone who doesn’t respect you. Someone who cares more about his feelings than yours, and more about flirting than saving Paris.”

“But there isn’t anything, Luka. The only thing keeping me and Chat Noir together as teammates is our kwamis. I’m my own person, with my own choices. And I’ve chosen you. And if this reincarnation thing was real, I would choose you in every lifetime.”

Luka smiled. His hand found her cheek and caressed it softly, thumb dancing beneath her eye. “As long as you’ve chosen me in this life,” he said, “then that’s good enough for me.” 


	30. Day Thirty: Vigilante

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vigilante, in which some things end, and some things begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter (hurray!) and this was largely unplanned. It was meant to only be the last section, but last chapter I accidentally wrote myself into a situation that I couldn’t not resolve, sooo yeah. Perhaps a little rushed, but never mind. I do have ideas for a more serious multi-chaptered story about it (because I have a lot of feelings about this issue, as is obvious) but we’ll see if I get around to writing it...
> 
> I'd also like to say think you to everyone who has supported this story, written comments, awarded kudos and all that jazz. I'm very grateful and I hope you all enjoy this final instalment!

**Vigilante, in which some things end, and some things begin.**

**Day Thirty: Vigilante**

It had taken a lot of persuading, and a few harsh words, but eventually Ladybug managed to persuade Alya that her article was damaging. She had been reluctant; it was her most popular post and had been shared several times already on social media, and she hadn’t  _ explicitly  _ said anything bad about Viperion, and it was journalism and that’s what journalists  _ did.  _

But, when Ladybug had pointed out that Viperion had nearly  _ died,  _ and that she herself may well have been too hurt to save him, because Chat Noir had chosen to listen to the akuma instead of her, Alya began to see reason. 

“I didn’t realise he did that,” she mumbled, suitably shame-faced. “But, it’s like he said, the akuma wasn’t talking  _ complete  _ nonsense.”

“That was Hawkmoth, not the akuma. He made her say it to rile up Chat. That’s the problem with these articles, Alya.” Ladybug sighed, arms folded across her chest as she looked through the window at the dark Parisian autumn. “You’re giving away personal information, even if it is speculation, and Hawkmoth is using it to his advantage. He knows Chat has feelings for me and, unlike the rest of Paris, he’s noticed Chat has a rather bad jealous streak. He knew if he managed to upset him he’d lose focus, and we almost lost because of it. What’s more, he’s also turning people  _ against _ Viperion. And if the people don’t trust all of us, then it makes it that much more difficult during battles.”

“I didn’t think of that.” Alya had already pulled the article up on her laptop and was now scrolling slowly through it. “I suppose I could edit it. Take out the stuff about Viperion.”

Ladybug nearly said yes. After all, the aim of this visit had been to clear Viperion’s name and to stop him being antagonised. But she knew that taking out everything about Viperion left little but Alya’s words about Chat Noir and Ladybug being soulmates destined to fall in love, and it made her feel slightly sick.

“No, Alya. You have to take it all down. This stuff about Ladybug and Chat Noir…”

“I know it’s personal,” Alya said, “but everyone knows it. Hawkmoth knows it, so I don’t see the harm.”

“Everyone knows it but  _ me _ apparently,” she replied, more bitterly than she’d intended. 

Alya stared at her blankly. “I don’t understand.”

“Everyone thinks Chat Noir and I are meant to be together, destined. You and Chat Noir are both so vocal about it that it’s sort of caught on. But  _ I  _ don’t think that.”

“But you’re Ladybug! And he’s Chat Noir! You’re...how did Adrien put it… like yin and yang. It’s fate. Destiny. Maybe you just need to give it more time?” She smiled. The sort of smile that was meant to be encouraging, optimistic, but instead it just made Ladybug feel even sicker. 

She was reminded of old period romance novels, where young women were betrothed to rich men twice their age and their opinion counted for nought. And, just like those women, those characters, it didn’t matter what Ladybug said. No one wanted to listen. They were too invested in the relationship. After all, Chat’s heartbreak would be far more palpable, far more painful in their eyes than her deprived agency. 

“Just take the article down, Alya,” she said, suddenly tired. “And apologise to Viperion.  _ He’s _ not the one overstepping boundaries.”

And with that, she launched into the night. 

The article was down by the time she’d returned home. And, the next evening, whilst watching a film with her parents, she noticed that Alya had uploaded a new post. It was short and slightly blunt, but she essentially apologised for any misunderstandings caused by her previous post about Viperion, and reminding her readers that romance aside, he was a good and important member of the team. 

Marinette was mostly pleased, but also slightly disappointed. She had hoped to maybe bring on another permanent teammate; one who could help diffuse the tension built up between Chat Noir and Viperion, who they could fall back on whenever Chat Noir got in one of his jealousy-induced strops, and who could act as an impartial witness to the unhealthy behaviour Chat Noir had been exhibiting when it came to his flirting. 

She had  _ hoped _ that person could be Alya. She was the obvious choice given she had been the first temporary Miraculous user to be brought in, and she might be inspired to stop posting Ladynoir nonsense if she saw first-hand what their dynamic was  _ really  _ like. But, it was clear to her that Alya would always be more interested in a scoop, and hadn’t yet learned what information ought to be omitted. Who knows what she might accidentally put online with more intimate knowledge of the team after some exclusive ‘interviews’ with Rena Rouge?

And so, she was back to square one. Something she complained to Luka about a few days later over hot chocolate, carefully avoiding confirming Rena and Alya, though she was sure he had worked it out regardless. 

“Even if Rena Rouge had been a good contender,” he said, his red-cold fingers curled around his mug, “there’s no guarantee you would be allowed to give her a Miraculous permanently.”

“I guess,” Marinette muttered. She swiped her thumb across the mountain of whipped cream on top of her drink and licked it off. “And I suppose it wouldn’t have done much about the main Chat Noir issue. I wish I could just make him understand that I’m  _ not interested. _ But he’s so invested in it. I really think it would break him if he actually took it to heart.”

“So you should give in?” Luka arched an eyebrow. “His feelings are more important than yours?”   


“No. But...I still feel sorry for him. And irritated.” She frowned and glared into her drink. “Mostly irritated.”

“Well,” said Luka slowly. “You could always throw him in the Seine…”

A smile twitched onto her lips which quivered with the effort to suppress her laughter. “He might not fit. You’ve already chucked so much stuff in there.”   


“It’s a river. It flows into the sea. Just give it a few days and it’ll be empty and ready to dispose of your problems.”   


“I’m glad your system works,” she said, giggling. 

“In all seriousness, there has to be something we can do.”

“The problem is  _ everyone  _ in Paris is on his side. They’re all taken in by this romance-” she rolled her eyes- “and of course his love is more interesting and therefore more important than my...lack-of. If I could just make them see that this  _ isn’t  _ what I want and it  _ isn’t  _ helping save Paris, maybe he might back off a little bit. It won’t make him stop but maybe if no one’s egging him on…”

“Maybe Alya could put up an article about it?” Luka suggested. “You could write one yourself, as Ladybug, and send it to her. That would look good on her blog, right?”

Marinette shook her head and returned to glaring into her mug. “She wouldn’t,” she mumbled. “Aside from Chat Noir she’s the biggest Ladynoir supporter out there. She thinks I just need to give it time and then maybe I’ll realise I’m in love with him after all or something. There are a lot of people who think I’m just playing hard-to-get, or holding off until we defeat Hawkmoth.”   


“Are there any other blogs?”

“None as dedicated as Alya’s. There are articles and posts around but they’re all on general news websites.”

“Then maybe-” he gave a faux devious smirk- “you need to take this into your own hands. Or, into your own  _ blog.” _

“What, like some...vigilante blog?” She gave a short laugh. “Who’d read that?”

“Lots of people if it’s  _ by  _ Ladybug.”

“I don’t have time to run a blog. I don’t even think I have enough material to write a full post.”

“Back to square one.”

“Again.” Marinette sighed heavily and took a long sip of her drink. Warm, smooth chocolate and the tang of sharp, nearly artificial, orange danced across her tongue. (The cafe had run out of mint flavouring, to both her and Luka’s dismay.) “Looks like I just have to keep doing what I was before. Say no whenever he asks and hope maybe he eventually looks up what it means…”

“There has to be  _ something. _ What if...what if I break up with you and- no hear me out!” he hastily said as her face had slipped into an unimpressed glare. “What if I break up with you and then date you, Ladybug, as Viperion. Then he’d have to back off.”

“No.”

“Alright. What if you, as Ladybug, admit you have a boyfriend as a civilian?”

_ “No _ , Luka.” Marinette shook her head, leaning back in her chair. “I don’t want him to stop because of another man. I don’t want him to stop out of...courtesy for someone else. I want him to stop because I told him to. Otherwise he’ll just wait for me to be single. He’s got it in his head that we’re meant to be, so he won’t accept any other relationship as being long-lasting.”

Luka looked at her sadly then down at his hot chocolate. “You’re right,” he said. “He needs to stop for you, not for someone else.”

She reached across the table and gently uncurled one of his hands from his mug and held it in her own. Her fingers brushed against the black spinner ring she’d given him for his birthday and idly twisted it. “Thank you.”

* * *

The next akuma didn’t appear for a while. Perhaps Hawkmoth had worn himself out with two in one day, or maybe with the start of December and Christmas fast approaching there was too much festive cheer going around for people to be upset or angry enough to be used. Whatever the reason, Ladybug was glad of it. 

It was thanks to this break, possibly, that Chat Noir turned up at the next attack—a fortnight later—perfectly friendly again. He still gave Viperion a disgruntled look at the beginning, but he didn’t flirt. He had once more stepped into the role of partner; he had Ladybug’s back, he listened to her plans, and he kept his inappropriate comments to a minimum. 

The battle was won in record time. The akuma victim, a student stressing over his end-of-term exams, didn’t stay long. Before Ladybug could even ask if he was okay, he cried something about a biology project and ran away. 

“Hopefully we won’t have to fight  _ that _ again,” Chat Noir said. “I have enough homework as it is without akumas blasting more at me. I thought I’d be trapped in that trigonometry chart forever.”   


“Only a couple more weeks until the Christmas break,” Ladybug pointed out. “Hopefully he and everyone else can keep their cool until then.”

Viperion nodded. “That would be nice, but I doubt it. Lot of people in class are getting stressed. I need to get going before I transform back. See you both next time.” With a wave and an almost too-professional smile, Viperion hurried away from the scene. 

Ladybug was about to give her own goodbye and follow-suit but Chat Noir stopped her.

“Can, uh, can I have a quick word, Ladybug?” he asked, sounding nervous. “It won’t take long.”   


As much as she desperately wanted to say no, Ladybug knew she had to accept. She needed to speak to him, and if he was planning on going on another romantic crusade she had to do it soon. However, she had seen Alya skulking around the area, filming snatches of the attack, and cringed at the idea of any personal conversations ending up on the Ladyblog.

“Sure,” Ladybug said. Her earrings had only beeped a couple of times; she still had a few minutes left. “But let’s go up there, more private.”   


Chat looked up at the rooftop she pointed to and nodded. “Yeah, good idea.”

They quickly scaled the building and sat down on the roof’s edge, feet dangling high above the Parisian streets below. It was early afternoon, and the sun was struggling through a thin layer of silvery clouds. In the distance a storm was brewing, threatening to bring with it the year’s first snowfall. But, watching the thin streaks of clouds drifting ahead, the wind was blowing the wrong way. 

“I wanted to apologise,” said Chat Noir. “About last time. You were right; Viperion could have been seriously hurt because I didn’t listen to you. I’m sorry. I was just frustrated because, well, you know why.”

“I do know why, Chat. And that’s something I wanted to talk to you about, actually.”

“Oh?” His eyes filled with hope and trepidation. 

A pit opened up in the bottom of her stomach. “I understand that you have these feelings for me,” she said, fidgeting and suddenly unable to look at him. “But I don’t have feelings for you. Not the same type of feelings, anyway.” She stole a quick glance at him and immediately regretted it; his eyes had turned dull. She ploughed on. “You’re my friend, Chat, and I care about you a lot but not in that way. I know it hurts—I understand how it feels to be so in love with someone that you get obsessed. You lose sight of what’s important and what’s acceptable. I felt that way about someone else and I ended up doing some really stupid and inappropriate things, and it’s only once I got over those feelings and realised what a healthy relationship is supposed to be like that I looked back and saw how ridiculous I had behaved. The truth is, I was in love at him, but I didn’t know him well enough to be in love  _ with _ him. And-” This was the important part. Ladybug forced herself to look at him again, right in the eyes, and as she spoke her heart broke with his. “And I think that’s what you’ve done as well. You’re in love  _ at _ me, but you don’t know me well enough to be in love  _ with  _ me, with who I am when I’m not bound with my kwami and trying to save Paris.”

“But…” He swallowed, his face like a kicked kitten. “But we’re the cat and the ladybug,” he said quietly, desperation bleeding through his voice. “We’re partners. Destined to be together.”

“We  _ are _ partners,” she said. “And the ladybug and cat  _ are  _ destined to be together by the nature of their beings, but as the people we are without our kwamis, there’s no pre-destined connection between us. We’re partners in fighting for peace, but not romantic partners. I’m sorry, Chat.”

“But how do you  _ know?”  _ he pressed. “How do you  _ know  _ we’re not meant to be together like that?”

“I spoke to my kwami about it,” she replied. “Maybe you need to speak to yours too.”

“Yeah.” His voice cracked. “I’ll do that. Thanks, Ladybug.”

It was done. Chat mumbled his goodbye without looking at her and vaulted away, no doubt to one of his ‘spots’, inaccessible to most people, to lick his wounds. 

Ladybug stayed until her earrings beeped for the final time and Tikki was evicted from her body. She took a cookie from her purse and let Tikki nibble on it while sitting on her shoulder. 

“Are you okay, Marinette?”

“Yeah. I just...I feel kind of bad.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No. But I remember what it was like being in love with Adrien, and doing all sorts of stupid things to try to talk to him. Things I really shouldn’t have done. I managed to get out of that before he noticed. But Chat...I had to tell him. If Adrien had had to tell me to stop when I was pursuing him, it would have been so embarrassing. So awkward, I would’ve felt awful about it. I just wonder if maybe there was a better way to say it, but…”

“If you’d been gentler, he wouldn’t have understood, Marinette.” Tikki swept the cookie crumbs off of Marinette’s jacket and brushed her cheek against her face. “For what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing. I know it wasn’t an easy conversation for you, and you should be proud of yourself.”

Marinette sighed and stroked Tikki’s head with her finger. She shut her eyes against the sky as the wintry winds played with her hair, and breathed in, out, in, out, until the weight she’d been carrying in her heart was lifted away with the breeze.

She opened her eyes. The sun poured through a small break in the clouds, showering her with a soft, silver light. She smiled.

* * *

_ A few years later… _

The streetlamps flickered out, plunging Paris into a darkness not even the stars could penetrate. The only sounds were the infrequent cars crawling down the roads, headlamps like small suns, the distant hollering of young people stumbling out of a late-night bar as it finally closed, and the faint padding of footsteps. 

Ladybug turned around to see part of her team of vigilantes gathered: Chat Noir, Viperion, Rena Rouge and Carapace. They were adults now, and their suits reflected it. The bright colours of their youth were darker, the patterns simpler, the designs more streamlined and practical. The only one who still looked the same was Viperion, but then again Luka had always been too old for his body.

“All clear, Ladybug,” said Rena Rouge. “Streets are empty and most of Paris is asleep.”

“Apart from the late-night drinkers,” Carapace added from his usual place at Rena Rouge’s side. “But they’re in no condition to be akumatized. I don’t think Hawkmoth would go that far.”

Ladybug nodded, smiling. “Good. Thanks, guys. I know this was a last minute call and it’s late, but…”

“You had a feeling.” Rena Rouge shrugged. “Your feelings are usually right. Just not tonight.”

“Can’t be right every time,” Chat Noir said, grinning. “Is there anything else you need us for or…”

“No. Paris is fine, and Hawkmoth isn’t going to be trying anything at this time. We should all go home and get some rest.”

“Good,” said Rena Rouge. “No offence, but I’ve got places to be tomorrow.”

“Yeah, same,” said Carapace. Waving goodbye, the fox and the turtle departed.

“Sure I can’t persuade you to grab a late coffee with me, Ladybug?” Chat Noir asked. Then he winked and laughed. “Anyway, I’ll see you next time, milady. Snake.”

“Cat,” said Viperion, matching Chat Noir’s smirk. Then, when Chat Noir had disappeared into the night, Viperion turned to Ladybug. “Maybe I can convince you for that late coffee?”

“Thanks, Viperion, but I’ve got a busy day tomorrow. I need to get up early. Lots to do.”

“Oh really. Fun day planned?”

“Mmhmm. What about you?”

“Hm…” Viperion frowned and tapped his chin, but his eyes gleamed with amusement in the moonlight. “No, don’t think so. Free as a bird.”

“You sure about that?”

“Well, now you mention it there might be something. I’ll have to check my calendar.”

Ladybug giggled and gently slapped his shoulder. “You do that. I’d hate for you to miss anything important.”

“In which case you really should go home and sleep. I’d hate for you to sleep through your alarm and be _late_ for something important.”

“Oh ha ha.” She glared when Viperion merely stuck out his tongue. “If that’s how you’re going to behave then I’m going home.”

“Well alright then.” Viperion’s smirk softened slightly. “I hope you have a good time tomorrow on your super-busy day.”

“You too.”

“What if I don’t have anything planned?”

Ladybug glared again. She turned him around and pushed him vaguely in the direction of the Seine. “Oh, just go home!”

“Alright, alright! I see when I’m not wanted.” After throwing her a sly grin over his shoulder, Viperion ran across the roof they were standing on and leapt into the night. She heard him call, “Goodnight, Ladybug!” and then he was gone.

By the time Ladybug returned to her room, it was nearly 2am. And yet, despite the late hour and the long list of things to do in the morning, she wasn’t tired. She dropped her transformation and tugged on the pyjamas folded neatly on her bed, once arranged with cuddly toys and oversized pillows but now empty.

Marinette left Tikki resting on one of the simple pillows her mother had replaced her old ones with and descended into the main part of the room. It was as empty as her bed. Gone were the mannequin and sewing machine, the computer and picture frames. The walls were plain pink, the desk clear, the floor swept. She knew without opening the drawers that they had been cleared, and the wardrobe once full to bursting with sewing projects now contained only one dress, and it was carefully hidden in a large, white dress-bag. 

The only objects out were a pink suitcase sitting beneath the window and two small boxes on the dressing table. Marinette slid off the ring she wore, white gold with a padparadscha sapphire, and opened the first box. It was lined with black velvet with three slots, two of which held more rings. The first matched her own; a white band shaped like branches and dotted with tiny pink gems. The second was larger and thicker: a simple band with guitar strings embedded around the top and the bottom, and etched in between a delicate pattern of branches and petals. 

Having placed her ring carefully in the box, Marinette turned her attention to the second box. It was wider and flatter, and when she opened it she revealed a silver necklace. The pendant was a large, smoothed triangle locket, prised open to form a heart shape. Inside the locket, encased in glass, were two guitar picks: one a limited edition Jagged Stone design, and the other patterned with cherry blossoms.

Marinette smiled as she ghosted her finger across the pendant, thinking back to when she had gotten them. Remembering the first meeting, and meeting again.  
  
_FIN_  



End file.
